


A Haunting in Connecticut

by TheArtOfSuicide



Series: Something Wicked This Way Comes [1]
Category: Beetlejuice (1988)
Genre: Disrespectful Attitudes Toward Christianity, Drug & Alcohol Abuse, Excessive use of Expletives, F/F, F/M, Graphic Depictions of Torture, Homophobia, Mentions of Rape, Mentions of Severe Child Abuse, Racial slurs, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 10:48:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 65,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9436841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArtOfSuicide/pseuds/TheArtOfSuicide
Summary: "Lydia didn't believe in God. She believed in Juno and the Waiting Room." AU/Movieverse. Part I/III. Complete.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EarthAngelGirl30](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EarthAngelGirl30/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. I am but a penniless amateur aiming to please the hungry masses, and hopefully feed my own demons.
> 
> It's been seven years since last I posted anything here. Betelgeuse has been haunting me as of late. Hopefully, this will keep the daydreams at bay.
> 
> WARNING: This story will contain drug and alcohol abuse, sexual content, mentions of rape, mentions of severe child abuse, depictions of torture, excessive use of expletives, racial slurs, homophobia, and disrespectful attitudes towards Christianity. I sincerely apologize for anyone who may be offended, but you have been warned.

 

 

* * *

"Shall we?"

It was all happening so fast. Too fast. Lydia floated across the floor to join her ghostly fiancé. She would have found his tricks fascinating if she weren't petrified.

"Called the caterer, he's got a great band-Whoops! We're gonna need witnesses. Would ya?"

With an almost endearingly polite nod and a wink towards Charles and Delia, her stepmother's sculptures came to life. For a moment, the two stood dumbfounded by the request, unaware of the creeping monstrosities behind them. A cry of horror escaped Delia's throat as a particularly horrendous piece ensnared her. With yet another wink from Betelgeuse, their recently remodeled fireplace twisted and stretched into an archway. Green light and fog poured from the newly formed entry way, and after a moment a decrepit little man in a suit limped out.

As Lydia was dragged towards the altar, her eyes searched the dining room for the Maitlands. No one had ever been as kind and accepting to her as they had been. She found them sprawled across the table, pulling themselves together- so to speak. ' _He kept his word_.' The knot in her stomach unfurled a tiny bit.

"C'mon! Let's go, let's get on with the ceremony!" The poltergeist's words were hurried, his eyes wide with determination and his brows fiercely angled.

"Do you Betel-" the priest was cut short.

"Ah ah ah, nobody says the B word." Betelgeuse wagged a scolding finger at him. The priest was unfazed.

"Do you take this woman to be your wedded wife?"

Betelgeuse continued the performance for his captive audience. This particular scene included a feigned exaggeration of cold feet. Lydia looked towards her father, who seemed to be in a catatonic state; watching, seeing, listening, and yet not quite aware of what exactly was going on. Delia was sobbing quietly to herself, fists clenched in the material of her $175 Gucci top. Barbara and Adam were nearly done gathering themselves by the time Betelgeuse finished his most recent spectacle, returned to her side, and claimed her as his.

"And you? Do you Lydia take this man to be your wedded husband?"

"I..." Her voice caught in her throat. Aside from the Maitlands' shuffling in the dining room and Delia's muted sobs, you could hear a pin drop. Lydia's heart pumped her blood so furiously, she was sure the man next to her could hear it. "I..."

He had kept his word. The Maitlands would continue to un-live a somewhat fulfilling afterlife haunting her parent's home. It wasn't the afterlife they would have chosen, but it was better than exorcism. She cast her eyes towards said ghosts. They were almost like new again. Time seemed to slow to a halt as Lydia pondered her choices. She could fight this. She could scream his cursed name until her throat ached. She could encourage her father and Delia to act. She could stall, and wait for the Maitlands to come to her rescue.

_'But then who would I be? What good am I if I'm not worth my word?'_

That last thought sealed her fate.

"I do." Lydia's answer was little more than a whisper. While Betelgeuse's grin seemed to grow impossibly wider and toothier, the Maitlands came back to life behind them.

"Lydia! No! What are you doing?!" Poor Barbara Maitland's face was flushed in exasperation, a desperate pleading look in her large brown puppy dog eyes.

"Please," Lydia spoke to her fiance, imploringly, and nodded her head to where Barbara and Adam stood. Betelgeuse grunted impatiently and gestured hastily towards the Maitlands. "Alright, alright hurry up." His hand tightened briefly on her arm and his eyes narrowed, "No funny business, babe." She nodded in agreement and he released her, albeit hesitantly.

"Barbara... Adam..." She regarded them both resolutely. The four of them made for quite a sight; wholesome, sweet, lovely Adam and Barbara in their traditional wedding clothes, and then Betelgeuse and Lydia. It was like looking into some sort of twisted, possessed fun house mirror. "You've been so very kind to me. And I can't thank you enough, but... this is my decision. It's already been made. I've agreed to this and I have no intention of backing out. I won't have anyone, alive or dead, calling me a deal breaker." Lydia paused, painfully. Tears Barbara didn't know she was still capable of producing fell from her eyes. Adam brought his hand to his wife's shoulder, holding her strong. "I'd jump off the Winter River bridge if it meant you guys could keep your existence." Words failed the Maitlands. "So... just let me do this, okay?" Barbara could do nothing but bury her face in her hands. Adam took a solemn moment and then nodded, not quite meeting Lydia's eyes.

Lydia accepted their surrender and with dignified grace made her way back to her place at the poltergeist's side. She couldn't quite meet his eyes, either. It was too much. Her father's silence was deafening, but the raven haired girl was unsurprised. It wouldn't be the first time he'd kept his mouth shut when it really mattered.

"May we continue?" Inquired the decrepit priest.

"Yeah, let's get this show on the road." Betelgeuse's tone was significantly less hurried. He seemed completely at ease, in contrast to how he'd been only moments before. He was pleased with himself. Like the cat that got the cream.

"The ring, please?" The poltergeist cursed loudly and began searching his pockets, but came up empty. Lydia met his eyes now, brows furrowed. _'Are you serious? You can conjure a carnival in my living room and can't come up with a decent ring?'_ He ran his hands through his wild hair in exasperation before an idea struck him. He stared down at his hands for a moment and then pulled a ring off of his own finger. It had a thick silver band and a large black gem that reflected the green light pouring out from behind the altar gloriously. Betelgeuse took her left hand- gently, Lydia noted uncomfortably- and placed the too large ring on her tiny gloved ring finger. To Lydia's surprise, it tightened, painfully at first, and then adjusted to a comfortably snug fit. The silver band shrunk and slithered down to a thinner, more feminine style. The stone maintained it's original size despite the adjustments. She was ashamed of herself to think it beautiful.

"Now," continued the priest, satisfied with the production of a ring, "with the power invested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."

 _'Oh.'_ Lydia thought numbly. She'd forgotten about that. Before she could react, Betelgeuse had his arms around her and dipped her low. His lips were on hers before she could catch a breath at the sudden movement. They were fierce and unforgiving. The sudden chill on her mouth caused her to gasp, granting his striped tongue access. To her surprise, he didn't taste foul. He tasted like the whiskey and cigars she snuck from her father's study on the occasion.

He pulled away, grinning madly. But something was wrong. There was blood on his face. As quickly as it was there, his grin was gone and he was holding onto her a little tighter.

"Why are you bleeding..? I thought that ghosts... Oh..."

And then her world went dark.

* * *

Everything was playing out beautifully. After this little soiree was over it'd be nothing but sandy beaches, strong drinks, and sweet gothic pussy for him. It only took about an hour of filling out paperwork before he'd decided that no, this death thing just wasn't going to work out. The food tasted like shit, the women were icy in every sense of the word, and the alcohol just didn't have the same bite to it that it used to. Nope, it just wouldn't do. That was a little over 600 years ago, and every escape plan he'd hatched since had gone awry. Until now. Until her.

He'd read something about marriages between the living and the dead a little over a century prior. At the time he'd immediately dismissed the idea, finding it repugnant. Just because Betelgeuse wanted to reap the benefits of life among the living didn't mean that he necessarily wanted to constantly be around them. Most of them were vapid, blissfully ignorant creatures that didn't deserve the air they breathed, as far as he was concerned. The religious zealots were the worst. Nothing pleased him more than scaring a good God fearing Christian out of house and home. That was always fun, even more so when they brought around some laughable priest to try and exorcise him.

So, in short, he had ruled out marriage as an option. And then, one day, a lonely little dark haired girl crawled into the attic he was haunting and stayed there. For three months, he'd watched her study that stupid handbook more than she did her homework- she even kept notes in a god damned little black binder, right next to her notes for math and science. Like it was for a grade. Betelgeuse was instantly charmed. He only had so much access to her home without being summoned. So he waited, he watched, and he learned.

Her name was Lydia, and she'd recently moved to Connecticut from New York at the behest of her parents. Her favorite food was Thai. She liked classical music and a little bit of everything else. She went to an all-girls Catholic school, though she didn't seem to practice any particular religion. She also didn't seem to have any friends. No guests, no phone calls, no letters. Lydia was a photographer. When she wasn't pouring over the handbook, she was snapping away, and always at the strangest things; shadows, furniture, cobwebs, etc. Sometimes, in the attic, she'd drop whatever she was doing and whip around to snap at something behind her, as though she were trying to catch her shadow moving without her. Sometimes he thought she could sense him.

Her parents were loaded. They were also negligent pieces of shit that routinely left her home alone with wads of cash for food while they went out with friends to "network." She'd order something for herself, pocket the remainder- in two weeks alone he'd estimated she'd saved up about $250- and eat all alone up in the attic while her big doe eyes hungrily scanned the handbook. Over and over again she read it, never satisfied.

Sometimes she'd have a glass of whiskey with her, or a cigar, which caught him by surprise- a rarity nowadays. Yeah, she was all dark and shit, but she seemed like a good girl at heart with her big eyes and soft demeanor. Maybe he wasn't as good of a judge of character as thought. One day he found himself watching her softly sing along to an unfamiliar song that he could vaguely hear through her headphones. It was dark out and she'd been left all alone again. She'd grown frustrated with the handbook. It was slammed shut and thrown it into her school bag. She then opened the window and lost herself to the chill of the night and the melody of the song. It was one of the most beautiful things he'd ever seen. He'd decided then and there she was someone that he could spend an eternity bound to.

So here they were. And she was such a good girl, doing everything he wanted and making the Maitlands behave. It was so _easy_. Too easy. He was hardly surprised when her parents couldn't be bothered to attempt to save her. He was surprised, however, when he pulled back from the most fan-fucking-tastic makeout session he'd been party to since he'd copped a feel on Cleopatra, and found his new bride bleeding profusely from her nose.

"Why are you bleeding..? I thought that ghosts... Oh..." She spoke softly before her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she started seizing violently in his undead arms.

"FUCK! Fuckfuckfuck no, c'mon Lyds..." He sank down to his knees on the altar and held her up, making sure to support her head. He was somewhat aware of the living and undead adults behind him becoming hysterical.

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?! LET GO!" Adam was pulling Lydia out of Betelgeuse's arms and into his own. Betelgeuse couldn't bring himself to put up a fight. He was dumbfounded. This was definitely _not_ a part of his plan. His enchantments fell away in his stupor. He hadn't expected this. He'd expected a tearful goodbye to her family before he whisked her off to somewhere nice and warm, like Hawaii.

Barbara Maitland had him by his collar and was lifting him off the ground with surprisingly little effort. "WHAT DID YOU DO? FIX HER! FIX HER NOW, _YOU SON OF A BITCH_!" His eyes were looking straight past her to Lydia, who Adam had laid gently on the couch. Blood still ran down the side of her face. Her seizing was less violent, but her skin was way too pale. Adam and Delia fussed over her, tears streaming helplessly down their faces. "I-I don't know... I'm sorry..."

At the sound of Betelgeuse's response to Barbara's harassment, Charles Deetz came to his senses. He stood from where the tail of Delia's sculpture had gone slack around his ankles. Charles looked at his daughter. He took a good, long, hard look at her. He saw red wrapped around her small, convulsing body. He saw red running down her face. Then, all of the sudden, red was all he was seeing. He grabbed Betelgeuse away from Barbara with one fist and started wailing on him with the other. It didn't hurt, and Betelgeuse could have stopped Chuck with his little finger. But he didn't. He couldn't. How could he? He'd killed this man's daughter. He deserved whatever hell Juno rained down on him and more. Air was something he hadn't needed for a long time. Still, the guilt suffocated him.

"Everybody CALM DOWN." The scene paused for a moment as everyone turned towards the sound of the raspy female voice. It was Juno, standing in the center of the Deetz's living room. The irate woman took a moment to investigate the scene; the little living girl in an unorthodox wedding dress, the girl's father- sweating with bloodied knuckles from beating on her least favorite ghost, who was _also_ dressed for a wedding, and the panicking forms of Adam and Barbara Maitland, _two more people_ wearing gown and tux. Everything came together for her in an instant. She closed her eyes, exasperated, sucked on her cigarette hungrily, released an acrid cloud of smoke, took another deep breath and then pointed at the poltergeist. Her tone was harsh and scolding, like a mother who'd caught her child doing something naughty. "YOU! You and I have a lot to talk about. You can sit in the waiting room until I'm ready to see you."

With a wave of her hand, Betelgeuse found himself sitting in the waiting room. Slowly, without emotion, he stood from the couch, grabbed a number, and sat back down. Head buried in his hands, the sight of a bleeding, seizing dark haired living girl collapsed in his arms was burned into his memory.

* * *

Juno placed an icy, wrinkled palm on Lydia's forehead. She was burning up, and still twitching erratically. "She's going to be okay, she's not dying. She's just changing. It's a rough process."

"Changing? What did that bastard do to her?" Barbara was hysterical, not quite prepared to believe that Lydia was going to be all better. It was a hard thing to believe. Lydia, with her bloody face, clammy white skin, swathed all in bright red lace made for quite a macabre picture. If she weren't still seizing here and there, she'd have resembled a fresh corpse.

Delia and Charles watched from the other side of the room. Delia nursed Charles's bleeding knuckles half-heartedly. Her husband took no notice.

"She'll be immortal now... Kind of. This isn't the first time I've seen this. She'll stop aging once she reaches whatever the age of adulthood is up here now. In my day it was thirteen. She will never contract a terminal illness. However, she'll still be within death's reach. She can still fall down the stairs and break her neck. Now she just has... an advantage, so to speak."

The Maitlands were at a loss for words, yet again. Charles stepped forward. "I don't know who you are, but you know what that sick piece of garbage was and what he did to my daughter." Charles dropped to his knees before her, pleading, a man broken. "Tell me why? Please." Juno flicked away her cigarette, watched it fade into nothing, and lit a new one. It was going to be a long night.


	2. Chapter 2

 

* * *

"NUMBER 9,998,383,750,000!"

Miss Argentina smacked her gum, lifted her gaze from _Neitherworld Weekly_ and scanned the waiting room for a moving stiff. No one got up.

_"NUMBER 9,998,383,750,000!"_

Her tone was markedly less patient this time. Again, no one moved. "I've got this one, Carmen." Spoke a raspy, female voice behind her. The beauty queen looked over her shoulder to find Juno. Her boss's stormy eyes were trained on one stiff in particular. The stiff who'd been the star of office gossip as of the last few years. Everyone knew _Betelgeuse_. He was wild. He was dangerous. He'd done the horizontal tango with _quite a few_ girls in the office, herself included.

They'd been shocked when five years ago, he'd appeared in the waiting room out of nowhere. He clearly wasn't himself. He didn't even spare her a glance, and he _always_ had something to say to her. Her feelings were mildly hurt, not that she'd ever admit it. He just grabbed his number, sat down, and started gathering dust. None of them could fathom what could've happened to put him in such a state. He'd been a pain in everyone's ass since his suicide. For 600 years, he'd exploited every loophole, conned every stiff or breather with even an iota of power he could steal, and climbed his way to the top. No one was more powerful than him. No one that she or anyone else knew. Not even Juno.

To see him, head buried in his hands, silent as a ghost, waiting patiently for his turn with Juno had been... Unsettling. Juno opened the door. "Betelgeuse." That got his attention. _No one_ said his name down here. No one that didn't want trouble. Slowly, he lifted his head and looked up to her. Juno almost felt pity for the creature before her. Almost.

"Come on. Punishment's over."

He furrowed his wickedly angled brows at her in confusion. He'd killed breathers before. He'd killed lots of em'. Punishment for taking a life was severe, more severe than a couple years in the waiting room. But he'd never killed by accident before. He'd never killed someone he liked. He'd definitely never killed a little girl before. He'd most certainly never actually served out the entire sentence for killing a breather- no one was powerful enough to make him. But for the little dark haired living girl, he was willing to pay the piper. He stood slowly, his bones cracking and popping with every movement. Juno turned without a word and headed to her office. He knew where it was. She wasn't going to bother waiting for him. She sat in her big office chair, lit a cigarette, and waited. Once he was inside, the door was shut, and he was seated, she spoke.

"Well... I suppose congratulations are in order. You did it, Betelgeuse."

There it was again. His name. Why did she keep saying it? He remained silent, not quite comprehending what was happening. Juno waited. When he still didn't speak, she continued.

"The curse on your name is broken." She answered his unvoiced question. "You can come and go as you please. But there are limi-"

"Did I kill her?" His voice croaked from years of disuse.

That stopped Juno. She'd known something was up when he hadn't bothered to juice himself out of the waiting room and back to whatever hellish pit he dwelled in when he was plotting. It was weeks after she'd banished him from the Deetz's residence that she vaguely recalled the blank forlorn expression he'd worn when he'd gazed upon the bleeding girl. It had never occurred to her that he felt _guilty_. But then she'd watched him, day in and day out, not moving a muscle. It was pathetic. She decided then that his punishment would be ignorance. She wouldn't tell him the girl had survived until his number was called. And that's what he got for going behind her back, marrying a mortal, and not even bothering to thoroughly research exactly what it was he was doing. A light punishment in her opinion, but the best she could do.

Juno took a slow deliberate drag on her cigarette, savoring the last few moments of his misery. "No, Betelgeuse. You didn't kill her."

It was as though the weight of the world fell from his shoulders. In an instant, he was free of dust, out of his wedding tux, and back in his signature striped suit. The crippling guilt he'd been un-living with was gone, replaced with excitement and plans for the future. _'The Ghost with the Most is BACK, BABY!'_ His grin was manic. "Alrighty Junebug, now what is it you were saying about coming and going as I please?"

Juno sneered and continued to suck on her cigarette leisurely. _'How dare that slimy fuck make me feel bad for him.'_ She took her sweet ass time ashing her butt and lighting another, her own little punishment. "There are limitations." She dragged once more. "Y'know, you should really research dark magic if you plan on practicing it," Betelgeuse growled and juiced up a cancer stick of his own.

"What can I say, Juney? She saw me, I saw her, it was love at first sight. Couldn't help ourselves. Now c'mon c'mon c'mon what about those _li-mi-ta-tionssss_?" The last word was excruciatingly drawn out, along with a long steady stream of smoke. To Betelgeuse's disdain, Juno smiled and her stormy eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

"You are free to go wherever you want." She paused deliberately. "Here. In the Neitherworld. Above, it's not so simple. You must remain within a ten-mile radius of your wife at all times. If you don't... well... Imagine, if you will, a dog chained up in a backyard. If the dog runs too fast and too hard from his post, he'll be yanked all the way back." She paused to ash yet again. "You're the dog. She's the post." Juno grinned seedily at her own analogy, thoroughly enjoying herself. _'It's the little things.'_

Betelgeuse was silent for a moment, pondering this new information. Shooting her a sideways glance, he carefully asked his next question. "So, uh... What was all that shit about? Y'know, with Lydia."

 _'Hmm.'_ Juno thought _. 'He remembers her name. Maybe he actually does care.'_

"AGAIN, I highly advise that if you're going to practice black magic you KNOW what you're DOING." She paused to take an agitated puff. "You changed her. Your marriage was an exchange of powers. You get a little freedom on the surface, she gets a little taste of immortality. She can still die, mind you, but only if she's wounded. Disease and time can't touch her. That kind of change takes a toll on mortals. If she had been just a bit younger or weaker, you very well could've killed her."

Betelgeuse wasn't sure how to take this new information. On one hand, he was elated that he hadn't accidentally murdered his little mortal girl. Most people were bastard coated bastards with bastard filling, himself included. Lydia was a fucking angel. On the other hand, this was _definitely_ not his idea of freedom. _'Still,'_ he pondered, frowning thoughtfully, _'It's the closest I've gotten yet.'_ He took one last drag before dropping his butt and crushing it under his grimy boots on the clean rug in her office.

"Weellll, Juney, it's been a _real pleasure_ catching up," he started wiping imaginary dust off of his suit, "but I think it's time I paid wifey a visit." He turned abruptly to open her office door, only to find, to his annoyance, that it didn't budge. He shot her a dirty look over his shoulder. She was still _fucking smiling_.

"I'm not done with you yet. Please. Sit." Her voice was sickly sweet. Juno was enjoying herself entirely too much. He pointedly ignored her request, turned around and leaned against the door with his arms crossed in front of his chest like a petulant child.

"I've granted the girl certain protections against you. I knew I couldn't save her from you completely, so I did what I could. Here's what you _can't_ do. You can't physically touch her without her consent. You can't use your powers to harm her in any way, and you definitely can't juice her off to some tropical island to have some pseudo honeymoon, again _, without her consent_."

Betelgeuse stormed across the room, furious, and slammed his fists on her desk. "First of all, _you dried up bitch_ , if you really think I'd hurt some little girl you've got more fucking bats in that head than I give you credit for." Juno was unfazed. "She's not a little girl, anymore, Betelgeuse. You've been sitting in the waiting room for five years. Today's her 21st birthday. It's not a coincidence that your number was called today. I can't legally keep you from her anymore. Today, she is frozen in time, officially." She deadpanned as if he were nothing more than a particularly uninteresting speck of dirt on her desk. This only served to further agitate him. "SECOND OF ALL," he continued, roaring, "what the FLYING FUCK, Juno? After all the SHIT we've-" She silenced him with a hand before he could go any further.

"OH stop with the theatrics, Betelgeuse. It gets old, and you and I both know _old_. You win. You get to walk in the light of day with all the breathers and there isn't shit I can do about it." She dragged on another cigarette. "Now get the fuck out of here. I'm sick of looking at you." With one last wave of her hand, he was gone.

_'Fucking prick.'_


	3. Chapter 3

_Five Years Ago_

"Tell me why? Please." Juno sighed and offered the man her hand to help him up. She led him to Lydia's side, hand in hand. Charles was warm, and she greedily savored the sensation. It wasn't often that she dealt with the living. She wasn't a rule breaker, like Betelgeuse. She was the law. "Betelgeuse-" she stopped at the visual effect the name had on her present company. "Don't worry. The curse is broken." Her voice was bitter.

"He has more power than any being that I know of. I was able to reign in his power centuries ago by binding his name, but now... Well."

"Now what? Now he can just waltz back in here la-di-da?" Delia spoke up for the first time since the fiasco began. "No, no," Juno spoke. " Not for awhile, anyway." She could tell that this did little to comfort them. Lydia had stopped convulsing at this point. Barbara stayed knelt by her side, wiping away blood with a damp rag. Her own lovely white bridal gown was stained red in places. "Are you sure she's okay?" The younger ghost looked up to her elder. Juno smiled sadly, sympathetically. "I'm sure. If she was going to die, she would have by now. At this point, you couldn't kill her unless you tried."

Juno waved a hand and Lydia was instantly stripped of her constricting monstrosity of a bridal gown and was now garbed in a simple, lightweight black cotton nightgown. "How long has she been out now?" Juno asked. A sweating, red-faced, miserable Charles Deetz checked his Rolex. "Uhh, 20 minutes." Juno frowned. "Seizures are hard work. Even a short one can have you out for days at a time. Don't be surprised if she's not up for a long time. I promise you, she's not going to die like this."

Everyone was silent for a long time. Juno spoke up again, feeling she'd overstayed her welcome. The girl may have lived, but these people were in mourning. "I can place protective enchantments on her. They'll keep her safe. I can't make any guarantees. He is very powerful. I can tell you this, though. Betelgeuse needs her alive. It's in his best interest. He is no real danger to her." This was a cold comfort. "All you can do is keep her comfortable until the transition is done. I'm sorry there isn't more that I can do for you."

Sensing that no more help could be gained from her presence, Juno faded in a cloud of smoke.

"Oh, Lydia..." Barbara brushed sticky, sweat soaked raven locks off of the girl's forehead. "Let's get her up to bed." Adam lifted Lydia into his arms and effortlessly carried her up to her room. Barbara pulled back the covers, her husband set the girl down gently, as though she were made of glass, and Barbara covered her with just the sheet. Lydia was sweating bullets, and no matter what Juno said, there was still a lingering fear for her life in the forefront of the Maitlands' minds.

Charles and Delia hovered in the doorway, desperately watching the ghosts care for Lydia in a way that they'd never been able to.

* * *

_Present, Lydia's 21st Birthday_

**BEEP... BEEP... BEEP... BEEP... BEEP...**

A small pale hand rose from a mound of blankets, searching blindly for the snooze button _. 'No... Too early...'_

"LYYYYYYDIIAAAAA!" Said girl groaned, slapping her hand down on the mark and burrowing further into the blankets. "OH, LYYYYDDDIIIIIIAAAAAA!" Narrowed honey shaded eyes glared out from beneath the mountain of blankets. Mandy had an uncanny ability to sound exactly like Delia exactly when she needed to. Sleeping in would not be a luxury afforded to her this morning. A very tall- nearly six feet- and shapely girl with sky colored eyes, wavy dirty blonde hair that brushed a few inches past her shoulders, and a nose ring flounced into Lydia's room like she owned the place. The amazon flopped onto her back on Lydia's bed.

"Happy Birthday to YOU

Happy BIRTHDAY TO YOOOUUUU

Happy BIIIIRTHDAAAY DEAR LYYYYDIIIIIAAAA

HAAPPPYYY BIIIIIRTHDAAAAYY TOOOOOOOO YYYOOOOOOOOOUUUUU!"

The song grew louder, more obnoxious, and more drawn out with each verse. Mandy really was a terrible singer. She was made for dancing. "Why do you hate me..?" Lydia whimpered from within her cocoon. "Get up, bitch! It's your birthday!" Mandy bounced excitedly on the bed and then burrowed underneath the covers to speak with her raven-haired friend face to face. "You're gonna get your beautiful little ass up, make yourself up real pretty like, and then you, me, and Nona are gonna tear this town up! You only turn twenty-one once!"

Lydia groaned, anxiety pooling in the pit of her stomach. She was well aware of what today was. She'd been dreading this day for five years. Today was _the_ day. Today was the day that Juno had told her to expect him back. She'd already told Mandy and Nona, more than once, that she had no intention of celebrating today, much to their displeasure. "C'mon, dude. I already told you that I don't want to do this."

The raven haired girl fiddled with her ring, a nervous twitch she'd developed after she'd discovered that it wouldn't come off. Every time she attempted, it would tighten painfully and refuse to budge. Luckily, it was real silver and wouldn't leave a gross permanent green ring around her finger. She'd had it appraised shortly after receiving it and had been taken aback to discover that the gem was a black diamond valued at just a little over $15k. Lydia came from money and had never wanted for anything, but it surprised her that he would give her so valuable a ring.

Mandy pouted pitifully. "How about this; whaat iiiiiiiif," she sing-songed,"we go out for breakfast- ANYWHERE you want, my love, even if it's highly inappropriate for breakfast food- then we go get Nona, and she and I treat you to a brand spankin' new tattoo!" Lydia sat up abruptly. That caught her attention. "What? Seriously?" Mandy grinned brightly. "Yup! We saved up all last week's earnings so that you could get whatever you wanted, wherever you want it, as BIG and as COLORFUL as you want it!" Mandy and Nona were strippers at the only strip joint in a 50 miles radius and were very popular. A week's earnings for them was _quite_ a sum. "With plenty left over to get you plastered." She finished, with a devious grin.

"Okay, okay I'm all yours." Lydia smiled sweetly. "Thank you, Mandy." The girls shared an intimate hug, the kind of intimacy that only comes from having profound respect for one another. "Ugh, I stink. Lemme get a shower, I'll come knock on your door when I'm ready to go." Mandy departed, pleased that she had gotten her way like she always does. Lydia crawled out of bed like a cat, stretching her muscles as soon as her feet were on the ground. "MANDY! MAKE COFFEE!"

Ordinarily, Lydia wouldn't order her friends around so crassly, but it was her birthday, God damn it. If she was going to be bribed to celebrate it, she'd celebrate it her way. Mandy and Lydia shared a spacious three bedroom/two bathroom apartment not far from campus. It was perfect for their needs. They each had their own bedroom and bathroom, and the third bedroom served as an all-purpose room for whatever their fancies happened to be that week. Sometimes it was an impromptu dance studio, sometimes it was a dark room for Lydia's photography, and sometimes it was simply a guest bedroom.

Mandy hailed from New Orleans and had not had an easy life. She'd been raised in poverty, the oldest of four, all brothers. Her father was an alcoholic piece of human garbage. Mandy was convinced that he had beaten their mother to death, but the cops couldn't prove it and she was only six at the time. The police had no interest in her incoherent ramblings. That's why when Mandy was sixteen, she woke up early one morning, before her father had slept off his hangover, and set a trip wire at the top of the stairs. He'd bled out slowly at the bottom landing while Mandy watched from above.

Mandy, ever the actress, called the police and cried her crocodile tears. If her father had taught her one thing, it was how to lie like a politician. She cashed the life insurance, sold the house, split the cash with her brothers and never looked back. Her brothers lived with her mom's sister now, somewhere in Tennessee. Lydia admired how Mandy was able to maintain such a sunny disposition despite her past. It was something she was slowly teaching Lydia. They knew almost everything about one another. _'Almost...'_


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My lazy, half-assed explanation for anachronisms, because I really don't feel like making this story accurate down to the year it was made, is that this is a modernized retelling. So expect mentions of touch screen phones, modern movies/music, fashion trends, etc. Betelgeuse isn't going to show in this chapter, but he will very soon! Be patient, my loves! I just have to set up these characters and allow them to evolve. I haven't written very many OC's before, and these ladies are going to be present for much of the story.

_'Mama, we all go to hell,_ _Mama, we all go to hell_

_I'm writing this letter and wishing you well, Mama, we all go to hell'_

Lydia sang along heartily as she stepped out of the shower. It was easy to lose herself in the music and forget her earlier anxiety. She wrapped her long hair up in a towel and began searching her wardrobe for today's outfit. Clearly, Nona and Mandy planned on dragging her off to some club or bar against her will. Not that she didn't love partying with her friends, they'd had many drunken nights together since they'd found one another. Autumn Woods was a small college town, about a 45-minute drive from Winter River. It was where the children of old money from the surrounding towns came for higher education. Girls like them, strange and unusual girls, stuck out like a sore thumb here. It was only natural that they stick together.

No, she loved Nona and Mandy dearly. They weren't the problem. The problem was that she dreaded unleashing a homicidal ghost onto an unsuspecting group of drunken college kids, and he could show up any second now. She couldn't have that on her head. Half of them already thought that she was a witch. She wouldn't be surprised if they burned her at the stake at the first sight of him. The poltergeist, the Maitlands, her ability to see ghosts- these were the only aspects of her life hidden from her friends. She knew their deepest, darkest secrets and she couldn't share this with them. It made her feel tremendously guilty and nauseous.

Just like that, the anxiety was back. Lydia removed the towel coiled around her head, wrapped it around her naked body, and stepped out onto the balcony she shared with Mandy. With shaking fingers, she lit a cigarette and lifted it to her lips. _'Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.'_ It was a beautiful day, unseasonably warm and sunny for early March. The breeze that blew over the balcony didn't even summon goosebumps on her still damp flesh. It was simply pleasant.

Lydia turned her head at the sound of the patio door sliding opened and was welcomed by the sight of her beautiful friend carrying two mugs of hot steaming coffee. "Sweet and creamy, just like my baby likes it." Mandy teased lightheartedly, handing Lydia her mug. Lydia smiled tightly in response, her thoughts elsewhere. Mandy sat back in the patio chair and stretched her legs out, enjoying the uncommon weather. She regarded Lydia for a moment, taking a deep sip from her own mug. "Are you okay?" She asked suddenly.

Lydia tilted her head to glance at Mandy with lidded eyes, before returning her gaze to the terrace. "Why do you ask?" She responded carefully. "You've just seemed... I dunno, _off_ these past few weeks. I've never known anyone who didn't want to celebrate their twenty-first. And I know, I know, you're a weirdo and that's why I love you. But... I'm worried about you. You seem... almost, like, scared." Lydia's stiffened uncomfortably at her words and dragged her cigarette once more. "And that really freaks me out, Lydia. Nothing scares you. Believe me, I've tried." She had. The obsession started when she had come to the conclusion that Lydia was unfazed by every horror movie they saw together. She started off small, hiding under Lydia's bed and jumping out at her from behind closed doors. That had proven ineffectual. Then she moved up to live spiders and snakes, desperate to get a scream out of her ebony-haired friend. Imagine Mandy's disappointment when Lydia would pick them up with her bare hands and admonish her for putting "an innocent little creature" in harm's way.

Lydia dropped her cigarette butt into the metal basin sitting on their patio. She bowed her head, her navel length damp hair creating an impenetrable inky curtain around her face. "I want to tell you something. But I'm scared-" her voice broke. She was crying. Mandy was suddenly alert, sitting forward in her chair. "I'm scared-" Lydia continued, and lifted up her head, "that you'll think I'm c-crazy and wo-won't want to be my friend anymore." Mandy was the picture of concern. She grabbed the mug from Lydia's hand and brought her friend into an embrace, gently guiding her back into their home and into the living room to sit on the couch.

"Shhhh shhh shhh." She hushed her. "Okay. New plan." She spoke gently. "We're gonna get dressed, go pick up Nona, come back here and make breakfast, and you're gonna tell us what's up, okay? There is nothing, _absolutely nothing_ \- do you understand?" Lydia nodded quickly. Mandy continued, "that you could say that would make me think you're crazy. You could tell me that you were abducted by Martians and crowned their queen, and I will still love you and think you're amazing. Okay?" Lydia was overwhelmed. Mandy didn't know what to make of Lydia's admission. "C'mon, sweetie. Get some clothes on and we'll go get Nona."

Lydia nodded obediently and retreated to her room. She threw on her favorite pair of black skinnies, combat boots, and a ripped up Smashing Pumpkins Tee that tied together at her shoulders and exposed a few inches of midriff. Her wet hair was thrown up into a haphazard topknot. For a moment, she considered herself in her large, antique cherry wood vanity. She'd barely grown in height since her teenage years. A half inch or an inch maybe. The difference was imperceptible. She'd ditched the hairspray and gel and had started taking better care of her hair, allowing it to fall the way it naturally would. Her hips had expanded and her chest had grown from a B to a D nearly overnight. She'd grown into her large eyes and lips, her cheeks high and sharp with the loss of baby fat.

"So this is my face now... Until death do we part, I guess." She muttered darkly to herself, scrutinizing her features. Today, she was frozen in time, like Barbara and Adam. Except she was alive and her body would continue to grow her hair and nails, unlike her adoptive parents. Barbara often lamented not getting a manicure the day of the crash, like she'd thought about doing earlier in the day.

The biggest change, by far, were the tattoos. Her father had expressly forbidden her when she'd first shown an interest at seventeen. So, naturally, the very next day she went out to the only tattoo parlor in Winter River with a forged slip and some of the cash she'd pocketed from Daddy over the years. She'd requested a delicate, artful rendition of the sun and a crescent moon to be inked onto each of her respective biceps. Lydia smirked at the memory of all four of her guardians towering over her on the couch, taking turns scolding her. That hadn't stopped her. She just started dressing like a Mormon at home to hide them. She invested in high-quality concealer and continued to do as she pleased. Who were they to tell her how to live her life? Two dead people who wouldn't know fashion if it bit them in the ass- ' _Sorry Adam. Sorry Barbara'_ she thought quickly to herself- a pseudo mother and an emotionally distant father. If they had it their way, she'd dress like normal girls. Hang out with normal girls. Act like a normal girl. She loved them, and they loved her, but they would never understand one another.

A decrepit tree curled around her left thigh with bats flying away from it, up the back of her thigh and onto the edge of the cheek of her left buttock. Across her midriff in Gothic script were the words _"Normal is an illusion. What is normal to the spider is chaos to the fly."_ A black widow hung down lazily off of the word "illusion." Lydia's largest and most expensive piece by far was the one on her back. Encompassing her left shoulder blade was a magnificent Raven, beak open in a cry, poised for battle. Starting at the top of her right buttock was the beginnings of a black and white striped, emerald eyed serpent. It coiled intricately along the curve of her spine. Its mouth was wide open, its fangs dripping with venom. It, too, waiting to strike.

Lydia shook herself out of her reverie, remembering with a jolt what day it was and what she was about to do. She tugged a comb through her thick straight bangs and was ready to go.

Mandy met her in the living room dressed in a flattering floral sundress, her hair pulled back in a french braid. "Let's go. You can do this." Mandy was careful to be delicate with her friend. She'd already texted Nona telling her what was up. They both knew that if it had Lydia- tough, infallible, badass Lydia- this broken up, that it had to be big.

They took Mandy's car, a vintage cherry red Mustang convertible that Mandy'd blown her share of her father's life insurance money on. It was her pride and joy. Within minutes, thanks to Mandy's expert speeding, they were pulling up in front of Nona's apartment complex. They'd offered Nona their third bedroom, she could definitely afford her portion of bills. She'd declined. _"I prefer to be in the nude at all times when within my den of inequity."_ She'd answered in her lavish, husky voice. Nona was what you might call dramatic. Then again, they all were, in their own ways.

Minutes later, a curvy biracial girl with lots and lots of curly milk chocolate hair hopped casually into the backseat. She was taller than Lydia, though not quite as tall as the amazonian goddess that was Mandy. "Spill." She demanded, deadly serious, as soon as Mandy revved up the engine. "Oh yeah, and Happy Birthday!" As serious as her tone was before, it was just as bright and jovial now. Nona was a promiscuous lesbian from the U.K. Her favorite party game was "let's find out which one of these preppy rich white girls loves pussy." She never left a party without a beautiful woman. The English girl was very persuasive.

"Nona!" Mandy admonished with a flourish before Lydia had a chance to speak. "Be more sensitive! That's not the plan. We're going to go home, I'm going to make pancakes, and Lydia is going to tell us what's been bothering her at her own pace and on her own terms." Lydia usually didn't appreciate people speaking for her, but this time she was grateful. "Well." Nona quipped back, her tone suddenly naughty. "I wonder if we'll be able to fit any of _this_ into your little schedule." She slyly slid her hand from the backseat to the front to let her friends see her treat. Clasped between Nona's perfectly manicured fingers was a baggie with at least half an ounce of green. Now, Lydia did speak. "No fucking way! How did you get this? It's been dry here for _over a year_! Do you know how many Rockafeller wannabees have approached me looking for this shit? Too many!"

Nona was pleased with Lydia's reaction and passed the baggie to her so that she could examine the buds discretely. "Happy Birthday, mate, it's yours. My cousin Mya just moved to Colorado." That was explanation enough for all of them. Lydia's mood was better than it had been all day. She had her best friends with her, was about to be made pancakes, and was now in possession of some seriously high-quality Mary Jane.

The trio arrived back home in high spirits. Mandy immediately got to work in the kitchen whipping up a pancake batter. Nona got right at home. She threw off her sandals, connected her iPhone to the bluetooth stereo and started Kendrick Lamar playing on shuffle. Lydia retrieved her skull bong, affectionately dubbed Jack the Ripper, from the back of her closet and got to work on cleaning out the dust it had gathered in the past year of disuse. Soon, he was good as new and ready to go. Lydia joined Nona in the living room and watched her friend get to work packing the bowl.

"So?" Nona threw her an expectant side glance. Lydia cast her gaze down, her anxiety returning. "Promise me that you won't laugh, or call me crazy, or a liar. Please. Promise me." The urgency in Lydia's tone forced Nona to pause her work for a moment. She set down the grinder and took Lydia's cream colored hand into her own caramel colored one. "I promise." Lydia had rarely seen Nona so genuine before. "Okay," Lydia said meekly. Nona continued packing the bowl. Once her job was done, she passed it to Lydia. "Green hit's yours, birthday girl."

Lydia took the lighter to the bowl's edge and sucked. The effects of the THC were instantaneous and potent, especially considering Lydia's lowered tolerance after a year of abstinence. She coughed out droves of smoke and then passed the bong to Nona. Lydia gulped down water and relaxed back into their suddenly ridiculously comfy couch. She could feel all the tension in her body fading away, and with it, her reservations. Nona coughed beside her as well and followed Lydia's lead. Mandy paused what she was doing in the kitchen and came to take her turn.

"I've never told anyone this before. And once I tell you, you'll understand why." Lydia spoke suddenly and calmly, her dark honey eyes trained on the wall. Nona and Mandy were deathly quiet.

"I see ghosts."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song used in this chapter is "Mama" by My Chemical Romance.


	5. Chapter 5

There was silence for a moment as Lydia's friends processed her words. "You mean like, in your photographs?" Nona began uncertainly. "Like orbs of light, right?" Lydia shook her head grimly. "No. I mean walking, talking dead people." Her friends were silent once more. "Wait here," Lydia said suddenly, remembering something, and hurried to her room. She lowered to her hands and knees and pulled a box out from under her bed. She lifted the lid, scrounged for a moment before she found what she was looking for, and quickly joined her dumbfounded companions back in the living room.

"Promise me you're not shitting me, Lydia." Nona began heatedly, "I'm going to feel like a right jackass if you're pulling the wool over my eyes. If this is a joke, it's seriously unfunny."

"I promise." Lydia laid her artifacts on the coffee table so that her friends could examine them, and accepted the bong Mandy passed her way. The first two items were polaroid photographs. The first of a young Lydia, her arms awkwardly thrown out to each side as though she were pantomiming a three-way hug. She looked exuberant, caught mid-laugh. There were two bright white, floating orbs of light on each side of her. The second photograph was of two people dressed in sheets, floating off of the ground. The third item was a copy of the _Winter River Gazette_ , the page turned to the Obituary section. A passage was highlighted. Lastly, there was an ancient, thick, worn book. On the cover was a cartoon depiction of a man and woman holding hands, looking into the sunset. The title simply read Handbook for the Recently Deceased. Nona was examining the photos with keen interest while Mandy read the newspaper.

"Wait-" Mandy began abruptly, "Adam and Barbara Maitland? Your Aunt and Uncle?" The gears were turning in Mandy's head as she realized that the dates didn't match up. Lydia nodded. "Yeah. Except they're not my aunt and uncle. They're the couple that lived there before we moved in. " She gently took the photographs from Nona and passed them to Mandy, who in turn passed the newspaper to Nona so that she may examine it. "They drowned in the river our town's named for. Their car veered off the bridge. That's them in the photos. This-" Lydia continued, pointing at the handbook, "is _exactly_ what the title says it is."

"Jesus fucking Christ, Lydia," Nona spoke, having abandoned the newspaper to flip through the handbook. "This is some crucial shit. No wonder you walk around like Satan's bride." A grim bark of self-pitying laughter escaped Lydia's lips as she passed Nona the nearly cashed bong. "You're not too far off from the truth, actually. That's the second confession I have to make. This," Lydia lifted her left hand to show her ring, "isn't a family heirloom, and I don't wear it to scare off boys. I'm a married woman." Gasps of shock escaped her friends' mouths. Lydia continued, while her bravado was still there. They hadn't abandoned her. They hadn't laughed at her. They hadn't even doubted her. It was enough to encourage her to press forward.

"When we first moved in, Adam and Barbara wanted us gone. See, when you die suddenly, with unfinished business the way that they did, you're assigned a probationary haunting period. They won't be able to move on for 125 years."

"Assigned?" Mandy asked.

"Yeah, by the Neitherworld Department of Affairs. There's an afterlife, ladies, and it's just as dull and full of bureaucratic bullshit as the lives we live now. Worse, actually. They can make you wait longer. You've got all the time in the world. Do I need to stop? Is this too much?" Her friends' faces were ashen, but they hung on her every word. "No, don't stop," Nona answered, running a hand through her unruly curls. "But let's take this out on the patio, I could use a smoke. Fuck." Lydia nodded in agreement. Mandy was the only one of the trio who didn't smoke cigarettes. Lydia didn't blame her, it was a deadly habit. She used to be of Mandy's line of thinking until she'd received the news that her life was not so finite as everyone else's.

They all moved out onto the patio, the pancake batter was forgotten in favor of the interesting subjects at hand. Mandy had known it was going to be something wild, but this vastly surpassed her expectations. Ghosts? The afterlife? Lydia was freakin' MARRIED? She wasn't sure which new item of information had her more flabbergasted.

"Anyway," Lydia started again, pausing to light a cigarette, "the Maitlands wanted us out. And I don't blame them. Delia did some major reconstruction to their home. Gutted it and made it her own, in her words. So, Adam and Barbara, they hired someone to scare us out for them, since they were so inexperienced. That's why they're dressed in sheets in that one picture. They were trying to scare me." Mandy laughed out loud at that, knowing first hand how difficult a task that was. "So they hired him, Betelgeuse." Lydia paused here, pensive, and toked her cigarette. "He called himself a 'bio-exorcist.' Told them that if they called his name three times, he'd be set free and would take care of us for them. He was... dangerous. Almost killed my father. Dropped him from the top of our stairs." Mandy and Lydia shared a meaningful look.

"My father invited his boss to our home to try and show Adam and Barbara off, but the Maitlands wouldn't play. I don't fucking blame them. I'm still angry with him over this. They're not dogs, ya know? They're people, with feelings and emotions. I don't know if I'd be in the situation I'm in if he hadn't been so greedy... Well, it doesn't matter now. I'm here." Lydia slid to the ground, dropping her butt in the basin as she slid. She still had Nona and Mandy's undivided attention.

"My parents got mad when Adam and Barbara wouldn't show for them. So they stole the handbook and used it to perform what they thought was a seance, but that's not what it was. It was an exorcism. So I sought out Betelgeuse and we... Made a deal. I marry him and he saves Adam and Barbara from a fate worse than death. I'd grown close to them over the time we'd lived there. You know what life was like for me before I met you guys. It was even worse before Adam and Barbara." They did know. They knew all too well. They were all outcasts.

Nona was kicked out by her parents when she was thirteen. They'd walked in on her kissing the neighbor girl. Her father was a pastor and her deeply religious parents couldn't see far enough past their misguided prejudices to see that they were throwing away their weeks of living on the streets and staying in shelters, she went to live with her cousin's family, the only other family she knew, out in the states. Mya's family was too strapped to afford to pay for Nona's ticket out and her pride was too great to allow her to approach her estranged parents. But the shelters were rough. Nona was sheltered and wasn't a match against the street kids who frequented them. So one night, determined to get out of the hell hole that was homelessness, she stood on the corner with the other nightwalkers and waited. Eventually, one man offered her enough and she sold him her virginity. The next day she was on a plane out of the country. She'd been an outcast since the day she'd realized boys just weren't for her.

Lydia was different from them in that she came from money, but she'd felt the sting of society's rejection same as they all had. Her penchant for all things macabre had started as soon as she could walk and talk. Much of her early childhood was a blank slate that she couldn't remember and didn't really want to. Nobody wanted to be friends with the little girl who talked to spiders and sneered at everything she was _supposed_ to like. It had been a lonely existence.

"So I did it. I married him. And it changed me." Lydia paused before she went on, thinking. "What I'm about to tell you might change the way you look at me, but I can't keep it inside anymore. Especially not today." Nona smiled sardonically. "Lydia, you're still the freaky bitch you've always been. Even more so now, considering all of... this," She made a large sweeping gesture with her hand, "but I very seriously doubt whatever you're about to say will change mine and Mandy's opinion of you."

"Okay," Lydia continued boldly, accepting the challenge, "I'm kind of immortal. After today, I stop aging. I can still die, it just won't be from disease or old age. I got a little bit of his immortality, and he gets to travel freely between our two worlds. He's been trapped in a sort of purgatory until now, but today is his release date. He could show up literally any fucking second now. And that's why I didn't want to celebrate today. That's why I've been acting strangely." Lydia finished with finality and stood from her spot on the floor.

"That's the most outlandish unbelievable story I've ever fucking heard," Mandy said suddenly. Lydia flinched, bracing herself for harsh criticism and insults. "And I believe every word of it." Lydia opened her eyes wide. "I mean, it just makes perfect sense. I didn't want to believe you at first, I mean it's crazy! But the ring, the pictures, _that book_... It's just, how can it NOT be true?" Lydia let out a breath of relief and surged forward, hugging Mandy tightly. Nona joined in, making a Lydia sandwich. "I'm with Mandy." She said, resting her head on Lydia's shoulder. "That's some crazy shit, but I can't find a single hole in your story. Everything that I know about you... Nah, you can't make this shit up."

Lydia felt better than she had in years. Someone who wasn't her parent or a ghost had heard her story and believed her. It wouldn't save her from him when he eventually came, but _God_ it felt good just to have someone bear witness. The three separated and Mandy grabbed each of their hands. "So!" She grinned, breaking the tension, "Who's still up for pancakes?"


	6. Chapter 6

Anyone walking through Autumn Woods square that night would have been treated to the sight of a rampaging madman throwing a fit in the fountain. _'Evil, vindictive, insidious cock-blocking CUNT_.' Betelgeuse fumed and stomped his feet, resulting in a loud splash and more water on his suit. Juno had transported him to the vicinity of his wife but had done nothing to point him in the right direction. To add insult to injury, she'd placed him knee deep in the pool of a fountain in the middle of who-fucking-knows-where. Sneering, the poltergeist floated up and out of the water and juiced himself dry. The old bag wasn't going to make this easy for him.

The square was deserted. Betelgeuse scanned the area and his eyes stopped on a clock tower. It was a minute to midnight. No wonder the place was deserted _. 'Fucking bitch waited until the last possible fucking minute. Made me miss my wife's birthday.'_ Not that he had a present or even the first clue what he'd say when he saw her. Numerous posters were stapled carelessly about the square, advertising various social gatherings; parties, sporting events, etc. ' _Well fuck, babes went to college.'_ This pleased him. He half expected to find her in a gutter somewhere with a needle in her arm, which would definitely stick a pin in all of his hard work. Humans were such fragile creatures, physically and psychologically. Betelgeuse had done his fair share of damage to many unfortunate mortals' psyches.

The distant sound of raucous laughter hit his ears and he set off to investigate. He made himself non-corporeal and floated down a nearby alley in a cloud of inconspicuous fog. The laughter originated from three drunk frat boys exiting a bar. Hopefully, one of these bozos could point him in the right direction before that dog-post scenario Juno had oh so smugly cited became a reality.

"Okay, okay what about Nona Jackson?" One asked the other, words slurring.

"I don't usually go for niggers," the eavesdropping Betelgeuse threw up a little bit on the inside, "but god damn that body could make me look the other way. She's light skinned enough, I could pretend she was a spic or something, that's not as bad. "

"You know she's a dike, Josh." The third boy who'd remained silent until now spoke. "I bet she does some _freaky shit_ with Deetz and that skanky blonde stripper."

The poltergeist, who'd only been half paying attention, zeroed in. He hung on every word, floating lazily along behind them. Josh spoke again, a cocky grin on his handsome face. "I'd pay good money to see that. Claire used to put out all the time before we got engaged. Now she's all into that abstinence ' _saving herself for marriage_ ' shit. Like I haven't already tapped that seven ways from Sunday. Anyway, I'd have to rate Nona a solid eight, points redacted for being a dike nigger. Since we're on the subject of Deetz, what'd you say? I'd be too scared to stick my cock in that, personally. She might bite my head off afterward and lay eggs in my gut." The temperature dropped around them.

Granted, Betelgeuse was not the most respectable character when it came to women. He'd said far worse things about broads in his day. But something about this spoiled, slimy little shit talking about his _God damned wife_ like that got under his skin. The three boys continued on their path and took a shortcut through the park, too far gone in their alcoholic stupor to notice the drop in temperature. "I bet she's a freak, though, with all those tattoos. A girl like that's gotta have daddy issues. Probably let you stick it in her ass." The redheaded boy who spoke grabbed his crotch. "MMmmmmm."

That was the last straw. Without warning, a skeletal hand shot out of the dirt path and wrapped around the redhead's ankle. "AHHH!" He let out a terrified shout and started pulling desperately, uselessly to get away. The other two little shits freaked and ran. "NO! COME BACK! HELP! SOMEBODY HELP!" He continued screaming, unaware of the mist swirling and solidifying behind him. "Would you shut the fuck up, already? Jesus Christ, you don't want to _wake the dead_ , do you?" Betelgeuse cackled loudly at his own joke. The boy turned slowly and froze. What little color was left in his complexion drained and he resumed his screaming with renewed vigor. One blink from the poltergeist and the boy's lips were sewn shut. He tried to open his mouth to scream, but it just caused the holes in his lips to bleed. Desperate tears rolled down his face and Betelgeuse was beyond amused to see that he'd pissed himself.

"You're gonna help me out," Betelgeuse spoke calmly, strolling towards the terrified boy whilst lighting a cigarette. "See," he blew a steady stream of smoke into the boy's tear and blood stained face, "I'm looking for a girl, and I think you know her. _Deetz_?" He hissed. " _Sound familiar_?" The poltergeist was pleased to see the vermin's eyes light up with recognition and nod his head eagerly. Muffled grunts came out from his sewn lips. "If you cooperate, you _just might_ get out of this. I get rid of those stitches and you tell me where I might find her. Cooperation includes not screaming my ears off or pleading with me like a little bitch. We got a deal or do I need to make you an offer you can't refuse?" Betelgeuse sneered as the musty smell of piss assaulted his nostrils. The boy nodded once, deliberately, breathing hard through his nose. With a wave of his hand, the boy's mouth was once more free, but the wounds remained around his lips. The boy gasped in air greedily, then hissed at the strain it caused on the skin around his mouth.

"Sh-she lives at the Prestige P-Point apartment complex, about three b-blocks that way." He spoke cautiously, shuddering in pain every time his blood-gushing lips touched. The boy pointed and Betelgeuse took note of the direction. "I'll tell you a-anything you want to know, please! Please don't kill me!" The poltergeist considered him for a moment, sucking on his cigarette. "You have been very helpful... But then again, you did just sell out _my wife_. I mean, what if I wanted to hurt her? What if I was a HOMICIDAL MANIAC?!" Betelgeuse finished his sentence shouting in the boy's sobbing, pathetic face. A crazed grin dominated his face. "Not very chivalrous." Just like that, he was the picture of tranquility again. "B-but you promised..." The boy wept. "Ah ah ah, I said might. _Might_. Maybe if you'd put up a bit more of a fight, grown a pair and stuck up for the maiden fair, things would be different. But as it is..."

The skeletal hand resumed its tugging, pulling the boy into the earth at an excruciating pace. His screaming was renewed with twice the conviction. With a wave, the stitches were back, and Betelgeuse stood back to watch the show. His shirt was soaked with blood from trying to scream for help. Desperate muffled grunts echoed throughout the park. Once he was down to his armpits he scratched and clawed at the earth, trying with all his might to pull himself up to safety, but failing. Soon, the park was silent once more. The only evidence that the ginger had ever been there were deep scratch marks in the earth and three lone, bloody fingernails with bits of flesh still stuck to them.

Betelgeuse chuckled and dropped his butt into the hole in the Earth that had swallowed the punk. He began his trek in the direction the boy had pointed, whistling a cheerful tune with his hands in his pockets and a bounce in his step. After a brief walk, he stood before Lydia Deetz's place of residence. The specter frowned, contemplating. He hadn't gotten an apartment number out of the maggot. For the umpteenth time, he'd have to play the waiting game. Luckily, he didn't have to wait too long. The sound of female voices from above alerted him to the presence of three women leaving their apartment, and he became non-corporeal once more.

* * *

Lydia admired her new tattoos while she waited for Nona and Mandy to finish getting ready. She unwrapped the bandages the tattoo artist had placed there- after the appropriate amount of time had passed- and rubbed the raw skin down with healing ointment. She'd gotten a line of stitches, running from her wrist to her inner elbow on each arm. Not all of Lydia's tattoos were particularly meaningful to her, but these were. They were a symbol of her continued will to live, and her inability to die. Yeah, it was cheesy, but she liked them and that's all that mattered. She'd let her hair down earlier in the day to air dry and now it was a wild mop of raven curls. Lydia brought a brush through her mane in an attempt to tame it and ended up with a cascade of frizzy waves. She scowled and applied some pleasant smelling hair oil to her tresses to calm the frizz, spreading it through evenly with her fingers. Lydia smiled at her reflection, pleased with the effect. The only makeup she wore were a couple layers of mascara, some highlighter on her cheekbones, and a coat of glittery black dramatic lipstick. Her look was finished with a simple black leather choker.

The pre-gaming had been under way for the past hour. Mandy and Nona had convinced her that no matter what, he was going to show, so she might as well try and enjoy her birthday. They were taking the news Lydia had dropped on them that morning _surprisingly_ well. She'd been barraged with questions about ghosts and the afterlife all day, but that was to be expected.

The plan was to go out to _Deja Vu_ \- the DJ was smitten with Mandy, so he'd play any music she wanted- and dance the night away until all hell broke loose. They'd shared an expertly rolled blunt, courtesy of Nona, and poured themselves glasses of Rose before beginning their preparations for the evening. Nona sat in front of Lydia's vanity, applying contour makeup to her face. She already had a lovely face, but her careful brush strokes served to exaggerate all of her best features. Nona wore a peach colored body-con dress that complimented her skin tone and showed off her perfect curves enticingly. Lydia understood why a woman would abandon her sexual identity for a night with her.

"You're so fucking pretty, Nona." Said girl glanced up at Lydia in the mirror, applying a coat of clear gloss over her nude lips. She grinned flirtatiously, shamelessly dragging her gaze up and down her friend's reflection. "You're not so bad yourself, birthday girl." Lydia flushed and screwed up her face. "Stop that." Nona just laughed out loud and put away the last of her makeup.

"Oy, slut!" She yelled out to Mandy, making her way out of Lydia's room and stopping in front of the blonde's door. "Ready yet?" Mandy emerged from her bedroom taller than ever in a pair of white pumps. She was of the opinion that men who were intimidated by her generous height must be lacking in other departments, so she wore heels often and unapologetically. She was adorned in high-waisted ripped jeans and a pale pink tube top that contrasted nicely with her sky blue eyes. Her dirty blonde hair was styled into large, voluminous waves with tiny braids placed here and there. Mandy grinned, looking at the all three of them. "Yep. We're gonna be the hottest bitches in the joint."

They took Mandy's car again, blaring music and singing along the whole way to the club- Lydia riding shotgun and Nona in the middle backseat, leaning forward. _Deja Vu_ was packed. It was a Friday night, after all. Mandy immediately beelined to the DJ's booth where a tall scrawny kid with shaggy brown hair stood managing the music. She crossed her arms and leaned forward, presenting him with quite a lovely view. Lydia couldn't hear what they were saying over the roar of the crowd, but she saw Mandy slip him a CD from her purse after only a few minutes of batting her bambi eyes at him. He smiled bashfully and stopped the current song to play Mandy's music. She grinned at him dazzlingly, planted a smooch on his cheek, and rejoined Lydia and Nona at the bar.

_'Go, go, go, go, go, go, go shawty, It's your birthday_

_We gonna party like it's your birthday,_

_We gonna sip Bacardi like it's your birthday,_

_And you know we don't give a fuck it's not your birthday!'_

Lydia scowled at Mandy as the immediately recognizable song came on and the crowd went wild. Nona just laughed her ass off. "BIRTHDAY SHOTS FOR THE BIRTHDAY GIRL!" Mandy shouted at the bartender, slapping down the appropriate amount of bills. He appeared moments later with a tray of shot glasses filled with thick white chocolate liqueur and topped with whip cream and sprinkles, two for each of them. They were shot back with ease. "Let's dance!" Nona grabbed their hands and pulled them into the thick of it.

_'Look mami, I got the X if you're into takin' drugs,_

_I'm into having sex, I ain't into makin' love,_

_So come give me a hug if you into gettin' rough,'_

The alcohol and marijuana worked on Lydia beautifully and she lost herself easily in the thrum of the beat. The floor was packed tight and they were pressed against each other, gyrating back to back. Nona's hips rotated against her ass, while Mandy's back was pressed up against her front. They moved in sync with one another, having done exactly this enough times to be able to predict each other's moves. They paused briefly, sweating as the song changed.

_'Live fast, die young, Bad girls do it well,_

_Live fast, die young, Bad girls do it well,'_

Mandy turned around, grinning, to grab Lydia's hips from the front. This was her favorite dance song right now. It changed monthly. The trio smiled, mouthing the words as they danced. Lydia's arms were thrown in the air, head tilted back and eyes closed. She rotated in time with the beat- sometimes facing Nona, sometimes facing Mandy. She didn't notice that a circle had formed around them on the dance floor, people stopping to watch the erotic sight. The trifecta continued, unaffected.

_'Get back, Get down,_

_Pull me closer if you think you can hang,_

_Hands up, Hands tied,_

_Don't go screaming if I blow you with a bang'_

The song ended and Lydia's face reddened when she realized that they'd attracted onlookers. Her friends were unfazed, used to being watched by strangers. "I've gotta get some air!" She called out to them, breaking away to push her way through the crowd and towards the exit. The air outside had chilled considerably with the fall of night. It felt glorious on Lydia's flushed skin. She leaned against the brick wall and let her head fall backward, eyes shut tightly as an unlit cigarette was lifted to her lips.

"Those'll kill you, ya know."

Lydia gasped and dropped her cigarette. It landed in a puddle. There _he_ was, in the flesh, not two feet in front of her. He grinned seedily and leaned forward, planting one hand on the wall behind her, close enough to her head that her hair brushed his skin. The poltergeist towered over her slight stature, his shadow enveloping her. His other hand lifted an already lit cigarette to her lips and placed it there, his skin never touching hers, his eyes never leaving hers. It hung there, limply, between her black lips, as she stared dumbly forward.

"Long time no see, babes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs used in this chapter are (in order) "In Da Club" by 50 Cent and "Bad Girls" by M.I.A.


	7. Chapter 7

Betelgeuse was careful not to stray too close to the mortal girls as they descended the steps that led to the parking lot. If one of them was Lydia, she'd sense him instantly, and he wanted to keep the element of surprise on his side. As they got closer, his eyes focused in on the shortest of the three _. 'No way...'_ This couldn't be her. Her hair was too long, her figure too womanly. His wife was scrawny and had short hair. But the longer he stared, the more he started to recognize the tiny details; the slight arc of her nose, the dark honey color of her eyes, the way her lips curled when she smiled. He wasn't totally convinced until the girl lifted her left hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The light of a nearby streetlamp reflected brilliantly off of the gem on her left hand's ring finger. His eyes narrowed. It was _his_ ring.

He'd thought she was beautiful before, but his memory of her paled in comparison to the vision before him. The poltergeist couldn't believe his luck. His wife had grown into a stone cold fucking fox. She was still a shrimp, but that didn't bother him. Short girls were cute, all tiny and feisty and shit.

Betelgeuse was surprised to see that her company wasn't all tatted up and swathed in black like her. In his experience, birds of a feather tended to flock together, especially in a schoolyard setting. These three, by all appearances, looked like they'd have nothing in common. And yet, they moved together with ease and jumped into an impressively sexy piece of machinery as if they'd done it a thousand times. Before he knew it, the mustang was speeding out of the parking lot and he had to rush to keep up with them. His mist form weaved in and out of traffic, always right behind the vehicle. He internally scowled at the speed of the girl driving. His tenuous freedom was only going to last as long as Lydia avoided death. If this was how she always drove, it was only a matter of time before his wife's head went crashing through a windshield. Eventually, they pulled up outside of a club and parked.

He kept his distance, biding his time. He wanted to get Lydia alone. It wouldn't do to have two screaming mortal girls ruining their reunion, and he genuinely held no interest in hurting his wife's friends. That wouldn't help him gain her trust. So once again, he found himself waiting and watching in the shadows. He watched from the ceiling, mouth salivating and eyes gleaming, as they writhed and twisted together on the dance floor. They were so _intimate_ with each other. It wasn't long before the rest of the crowd took notice and stopped to bask in their beauty. He took mental pictures, filing them away for the good ol' spank bank.

Too soon, the song was over and his lovely bride was drenched in sweat from her incessant gyrations. She got a deer in the headlights look when she'd realized she had an audience and quickly darted her way through the crowd and towards the exit. _'Run, rabbit, run.'_ This was it, this was his chance. Her creamy ivory skin glistened under the streetlamps and he cursed Juno. All he wanted to do was let his tongue snake out and get a taste. She must've been intoxicated because she hadn't yet sensed his presence and he was standing right in front of her. _'Can't blame her. It_ _ **is**_ _her twenty-first.'_ The poltergeist watched hungrily as she lifted a cigarette to her plump, painted black lips. No longer able to contain himself, he became tangible once more and spoke.

"Those'll kill you, ya know." The deer in the headlights look was back. Her hand froze next to her mouth, and the cigarette dropped into a puddle at her feet with a soft splash. Betelgeuse leaned in closer, encroaching on her space. She really was a tiny little thing. He juiced up a lit cigarette for her and placed it gently between her lips, well aware of the phallic implications of his action. "Long time no see, babes."

All the preparation in the world couldn't have readied Lydia for the return of her husband. She'd forgotten how intimidating he could be. She felt like an idiot for not sensing the tell-tale drop in temperature sooner. It hadn't been this cool earlier. The hand that had passed her a cigarette took hold of a strand of her hair, gently, and fiddled with it.

"I owe you an apology."

That was the last thing in the entire world she'd thought he'd say. "Wh-what?" The hand that sat frozen next to her face suddenly came to life and removed the limp cigarette from between her lips without taking a puff. He pulled away from her, dropping the strand of hair he'd been playing with and began pacing madly in the shadows of the parking lot. "Yeah, the whole marriage thing was kind of a spur of the moment decision," he ran a hand through his wild hair, "and I didn't really know what I was doing. I just wanted out, and you were an easy target. I didn't know that you'd get all fucked up like that."

It took her a moment to realize what he was apologizing for. He wasn't sorry that he'd married her. He was sorry that her body had reacted so badly. "Well?" He stopped pacing and turned to her, "Say something!" His eyes were crazed and it occurred to her that this had _really_ been bothering him. Lydia realized she'd been silent for a long time, just staring at him with wide eyes. She snapped out of it with a jolt. "I-it's okay! I mean, it didn't hurt or anything. I just ended up sleeping for a really long time. That whole month is just kind of a blank for me." He grinned and dropped down to one knee before her, right into the puddle that had claimed her cigarette. Unconcerned with the wetness seeping through the material of his suit, he tentatively grabbed hold of her left hand, testing. Internally, he crowed with victory at the contact. He had her _consent_ , whether she'd voiced it or not. "So you can find it in your heart to forgive this old stiff?" Her tiny hand was soft and pleasantly warm within his, making his skin tingle.

She'd imagined their reunion a thousand times over, and this scenario had never once crossed her mind. She'd thought up narratives where he'd swoop in, enraged, and take out his frustrations on her for the limitations placed on his powers. "Yeah, sure." She spoke softly, caught off guard. He suddenly wrapped both arms around her legs and pulled her forward, pressing his cold, stubbly cheek against the exposed flesh of her stomach. Again the urge to taste her overcame him and he squashed it down _. 'Patience.'_

"You don't know how good that makes me feel, babes. Really warms my heart." Lydia flushed against her will at the contact. He was the first man to touch her since she'd left Winter River for college, and even then that was just innocent hugs and kisses from her father and Adam. "Uhh..." Lydia began unevenly, her hands curled up protectively at her chest. He pulled back a couple inches to examine the ink on her midriff. _'Normal is an illusion. What is normal to the spider is chaos to the fly.'_ One of his hands slid leisurely from the back of her thigh up to her stomach to trace the tattoo. Jade eyes, dark with lust, flitted up to meet her honey orbs as his mouth twisted perversely. "I _dig_ the tats, Lyds."

She jumped at the sensation of his icy fingers on her sensitive flesh and peeled away from him frantically. She found no resistance on his part. "Um, thanks." He was acutely aware of her flushed cheeks. "Since we're apologizing and shit," She began uncertainly, panicked, her gaze not quite settling on anything in particular but refusing to look at him. "I'm sorry that you know, this isn't what you thought it would be. That must've sucked." Okay, _now_ he couldn't believe his luck. She really was a fucking angel. It was his turn to sit there dumbfounded while she rambled. "I know when we first met I said I wanted to get in, but now I realize how incredibly stupid that was. Adam and Barbara told me all about the Neitherworld, and how dull it is. I can't imagine being stuck somewhere so dismal, day in and day out. I might take drastic steps to get out myself if I were in your shoes." She wrung her hands hectically as she babbled on, still refusing to meet his eyes.

She beguiled him with her desperate show of humility. A slow smirk curled his mouth as he stood from the ground and dusted himself off. "Forget about it, babe. Not your problem, not your fault. Now chill the fuck out, you look like you're about to jump out of your skin. I'm not gonna _eat ya_."

 _'Not yet,'_ he thought perversely to himself.

"Lydia? Where'd you go, Matt's about to play our jam!" Lydia turned her head sharply at the sound of Nona's voice and was greeted with the shocked, frozen faces of her friends. There was awkward silence for a long time. Finally, Nona and Mandy spoke at the same time.

"Is this him? Betelgeuse?"

"Was there something funny in that pot?"

Her friends glanced at each other, before returning their gaze to Lydia and the strange man. Betelgeuse scowled- a facade- as their words registered. He approached his wife's companions enthusiastically to introduce himself. In truth, he was pleased that she had trusted these girls enough to tell them about him. Saved him the trouble of going through the "don't be scared, I'm just her undead husband" spiel he'd been mentally rehearsing. "See, Lyds," he glanced at her over his shoulder, "this is why I don't tell people my name. You already went and blabbed to all your friends." He took hold of each of their hands, one at a time, and shook them vigorously. "Hey, how ya doin'? Ghost with the Most here, Mr. Lydia Deetz, nice ta meet ya."

Nona grimaced and wiped the hand he shook off on her dress. "I ain't got cooties." He responded, scowling in earnest this time. "Don't take it personally," she responded with a thick, English accent and a tight-lipped smile. "I'm not too fond of men."

Mandy was immediately on the offensive and stood her ground. "Do I have to worry about you?" She began, taking an imposing step his way. Betelgeuse was impressed. Most breathers were immediately terrified of him. Their time with Lydia must have made them less susceptible to his more ghostly charms. She stood just a bit taller than him, with her heels, and was looking down on him fiercely, hands on her hips. "I'm not scared of you, poltergeist, and I'd do _anything_ for that girl over there." Betelgeuse believed her. He simply laughed in her face in response, charmed by her bravado. "Cool your jets, Xena. Lyds is the last breather in the world I'd lay a hand on. Couldn't even if I wanted to." This answer seemed to placate Mandy. She stepped back and let her arms drop to her sides, though her guard was still up.

Lydia joined them, hardly believing that this was going so smoothly. Well, maybe not _smoothly_ , but definitely not as bad as anything her imagination had conjured up. "Betelgeuse, this is Nona and Mandy, my best friends." She gestured to each of them, respectively. "Mandy's my roommate."

"Well, any friend of Lyds is a friend of mine." He responded animatedly, grinning toothily. The other living girls still eyed him warily but seemed to wordlessly accept the tentative truce. Nona regarded Lydia, "It's almost two in the morning, love. Do you want to get out of here?" The patrons of _Deja Vu_ had already started to trickle out while they'd been conversing in a darker section of the parking lot, away from prying eyes. Lydia's eyes bugged, "Jesus, is it really that late? Thank fuck I haven't got any classes tomorrow." Lydia ran an exhausted hand through her long hair. "Shit. Yeah, let's go." The raven haired girl inclined her head towards her husband. "I assume you're going to follow me whether you're invited or not."

"You bet your sweet ass. Besides, you've all been drinking. Can't have three such pretty, young girls driving home drunk." Mandy turned her nose up at his patronizing tone. She wasn't that drunk, and the thought of him driving her baby left a bad taste in her mouth. But, she couldn't argue with his logic. "Fine." She bit out and practically threw her keys at him. "But I swear to God, one scratch or ding and it's your balls."

"Touchy, touchy." The four climbed into the mustang convertible, Mandy in the passenger seat where she could keep a close eye on their unconventional chauffeur, and Lydia and Nona in the back. "You wanna sleep in our guest bedroom tonight or go home, Nona?" Lydia asked. Nona yawned, "Home. Unlike you, I do have class in the morning. And Professor Peters is a bloody homophobic, racist prick. Fucker's just looking for a reason to flunk me." Betelgeuse met Nona's eyes in the rear view mirror, a dark grin twisting his mouth. "Want me to scare him straight?" The car roared to life and Betelgeuse took off, following Mandy's directions.

Nona took a long moment and seriously considered his offer. "I'll have to get back to you on that." Lydia nudged her with her knee. "Nona!"

" _What_? He IS a prick."

"I know, but setting a poltergeist on a professor you don't like is unethical and immoral."

"Since when have I ever cared about morality? You're the good girl, Lydia, and really, darling, it's endearing, but this is about _revenge_. Have you ever once tried to get somebody back for fucking you over?"

Lydia pondered her words. "No." She always ended up feeling sorry for people who wronged her. After all, for the most part, they were usually just dumb kids. Dumb, cruel kids.

"See, that's what I mean. This isn't something that you can understand."

Lydia pursed her lips. "I understand. I just don't like it."

Betelgeuse chuckled at their exchange. "You just say the word and his ass is grass, Beyonce." Nona's face contorted with displeasure at the pet name. She leaned forward so that she was hissing directly into Betelgeuse's ear. "You wish you had half the cock that I do." He cackled in response, turning sharply onto the road that led to her apartment. "Not sure it counts when it's a detachable piece of plastic."

"Tell that to your mother." Nona bit back, without hesitation. Well fuck, she had him there. He didn't have a good comeback. "Yeah, well..." He fumed, grasping at straws. "Your ass is fat." They were pulling up in front of her building. Nona smiled brilliantly and hopped out of the car. "Thank you. Now look," She walked over to his door and rested her hands on it. "You haven't given me a reason to distrust you. Yet. That's good. But one wrong move and you're on my shit list. That isn't a place you want to be."

"Yeah, yeah, go sleep it off, drunkie." Betelgeuse waved her off, unintimidated. Nona crossed her arms and sashayed towards her apartment indignantly, waving one last goodbye to Lydia and Mandy. "I'll call you tomorrow!" And with that, they were off. Betelgeuse remained silent all the way back to the mortal girls' apartment, sensing their lethargy, and wordlessly followed Mandy's directions. He neglected to tell her that he already knew where it was. They didn't need to know that he'd stalked them all the way to the club. He parked the car and tossed Mandy her keys. He was surprised to find Lydia passed out in the backseat, head resting against her door. He was even more surprised when Mandy didn't give him shit for carrying her up to their apartment.

"What, no threats?" He asked the blonde quietly, so as not to wake Lydia, setting his wife down on the couch in one seamless motion. He immediately missed the sensation of her warm little body pressed up against him. She continued sleeping, unaware. The poltergeist set to work unzipping her boots and pulling them off so that she might sleep more comfortably.

Mandy just sighed. "She's had a long day. She told us everything this morning, about you and the Maitlands. I can't imagine keeping a secret like that as long as she has." There was an awkward silence. "I'm going to sleep. That's the guest bedroom," Mandy gestured towards a door, "There's food in the kitchen and the remote for the tv's right there. Just keep it down if you decide you wanna watch something. Oh yeah, and no smoking inside, only on the patio. Good night. I guess." Mandy quickly retreated to her bedroom, clearly uncomfortable with the poltergeist's presence.

Betelgeuse took this time to examine his surroundings. The two girls' influences were clearly visible in the apartment. Their styles clashed in some places and blended perfectly in others. Paintings and photographs- Lydia's work, he guessed- adorned the walls. His eyes dropped to the coffee table and he picked up the photo he saw there. It was Lydia, looking how she had when they'd first met, in her school uniform with her arms around two orbs who he assumed to be the Maitlands. _'Cute.'_ He smiled crookedly, glancing up from the photo to the sleeping girl. Her arms were thrown haphazardly over her head, ebony hair strewn across her face. The poltergeist set the photo down and moved to her side to brush the tresses out of the way. His smile melted into a frown when she shivered at the touch. With a wave of his hand, she was covered in a thick, black plush blanket. Lydia's slight, slumbering form sighed contentedly and snuggled deeper into the couch.

Appeased, Betelgeuse floated over to the recliner and turned on the tv. He flipped through the channels for a long time, finally stopping at a station that was broadcasting a George Romero marathon. Satisfied, he let himself relax back into the comfortable chair. Eventually, he drifted off to sleep, lulled by the snarls of the dead ripping into their meals and their victims' screams of agony.


	8. Chapter 8

Betelgeuse awoke slowly, bleary-eyed, to the rich scent of freshly brewed coffee. He didn't need sleep and had gone decades without it in the past. Seeing the little girl alive and well after years of believing her dead had been such a relief, and her presence had had a calming effect on him _. 'Speaking of...'_ He turned his head to the side, disappointed to find the couch empty, the blanket he'd juiced up for her folded neatly across the armrest. He sat up slowly, cracking his neck and wincing at the harsh sunlight that filtered through the patio doors. His eyes stopped on the tiny pacing figure on the other side. She was on the phone. Her face was clean of the previous night's makeup and she wore an oversized white T-shirt that hung off of her creamy shoulders and stopped mid-thigh. He noted the beginnings of yet another tattoo on her left leg. Zombies still groaned hungrily on the television.

He caught a word here and there, but the conversation was largely muffled. He waited patiently for her return, watching _Dawn of the Dead_ while occasionally allowing his gaze to wander back to her. Eventually, she quietly opened the doors and let herself back in, tip-toeing. She was fuming. "Oh." Her countenance shattered, anger melting away when she saw that he was up. "Good morning. Coffee?" She didn't wait for his answer and retreated to the kitchen to start fixing her own cup.

Betelgeuse's gaze followed her every step. "Sure. What was that about?" Lydia glanced up at him briefly from behind the bar and then returned her attention to the task at hand. She poured generous amounts of cream into her cup, stirred, and flushed lightly. "My parents are mad at me." She stirred in sugar until she was satisfied and pulled down a large mug from the cupboard for him. "How do you take it?"

"Same way I like my women; dark and sweet." She screwed up her face at him and her red cheeks darkened further, but she continued fixing him a cup anyway. "What's got em' pissed?" She passed him his cup and he drank from it greedily, savoring the warmth that exploded in his center. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had fresh hot coffee. Nothing was served hot in the Neitherworld. She sat cross-legged down on the couch and sipped her own creamy concoction. He discretely eye-fucked the exposed flesh of her thighs as her position forced the material of her too-big shirt to ride up. Lydia pursed her lips, her earlier anger returning with a passion. "They're mad at me because I'm _not_ mad at you. They wanted me to be a miserable blubbering mess and they're upset that I didn't meet their expectations. Of course, that's not how _they_ see it, but that's how it is."

Betelgeuse frowned, took another deep sip from his mug- downing nearly half the cup- and replied. "Why _aren't_ you mad? Most mortal girls would be pissed. I mean, you'll never be able to marry a nice wholesome nine ta five workin' man or spit out two point five brats. That's a pretty fuckin' big sacrifice. You kinda got the shit end of the stick." His tone was deeply sarcastic, but there was a real question in there. He already knew better than to compare her to ordinary mortals, but his curiosity was still piqued. He wanted to hear her answer.

Lydia shrugged impassively. "Never thought I'd ever get married, anyway. No one's ever shown any interest in me." ' _Besides you.'_ Her thought remained unspoken. "And I never wanted kids, either. The world's a shitty fucked up place. I can't bring a child into that. Nope," Lydia paused to sip her coffee, "I'm going to be a crazy cat lady." She smiled softly at the thought of living out in the country somewhere with nothing but kitties around to keep her company. It was a pleasant fantasy.

"Wait wait wait, hold the fuck up-" The poltergeist set down his cup and leaned over the armrest, looking at her hard. "Are you telling me that _no one's_ ever asked you out? You've never dated anybody before?" She nodded slowly, not understanding his confusion. "You've gotta be shitting me, hot piece of ass like you? Fuck, mortals are idiots. Except you." He added quickly, appeasingly, after she shot him a dirty look.

"Apparently I'm intimidating." A slow wheezing laugh began in the back of his throat, eventually evolving until he was clutching at his gut, guffawing violently. "What's so funny?!" She stood abruptly, miffed, hands on her hips. "You're about as intimidating as a sack of drowned kittens!" He gasped out in between bouts of intense giggles. She scowled at his simile, her fantasy of a cat-infested country home poisoned. He continued to cackle, unaffected.

"I may not be able to die for a long time, but I will die one day. And when I become a ghost there'll be nothing stopping me from learning how to do everything that you can do. And then I'll show you how _intimidating_ I can be." This just caused his laughter to double in volume, tears glistening in the corners of his eyes. "B-babes! You gotta stop! You're KILLING me! HAHAHAHAA!" Her scowl deepened and she threw a couch cushion at him with all of her unimpressive might.

"Hmph." Lydia turned, nose in the air, coffee mug in hand, and stomped indignantly to her bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her. She wasn't earnestly upset, his teasing was just getting under her skin. She was surprised his obnoxious laughter hadn't woken Mandy, but the girl could sleep pretty heavily after a night of drinking and dancing. Sitting down at her desk vanity, the raven haired girl dug around in a drawer until she found what she was looking for. Lydia tore off a generous nugget out of the baggie that Nona had gifted her and set to work packing her bong. _'This is your life now. You're haunted, Lydia Deetz.'_ She coughed several times after the first hit.

"Don't choke." He was laying on her bed with closed eyes, arms crossed behind his head, perfectly contented. His muddy boots tarnished her covers. "You're messing up my bed." She complained half-heartedly, mellowed out by the THC. Betelgeuse's ego suffered a slight blow when she didn't jump at his sudden appearance. _'Not so easily scared, huh?'_ He opened one eye and glanced down at the mess he'd made. He closed that same eye and the mess disappeared, along with his boots, and he was left in a pair of bright red socks. "Thanks."

Lydia hit her bong once more before setting it aside, sufficiently wake n' baked to her liking. She was awoken that morning to her phone vibrating in her back pocket. Her guardians had questioned her incessantly about the previous day's events. When she hadn't sounded upset, they'd turned on her. The words were never explicitly said, but she could read between the lines. They were wondering what was wrong with her. The conversation had gone in circles for a little over an hour, with the phone on the other end routinely changing hands, so she was forced to repeat herself multiple times. It was exhausting.

The silence was uncomfortable. To Lydia, anyway. Her husband seemed happy enough basking on her bed without audible distractions. So she pulled out her laptop and hooked up the speakers, starting her music library playing on shuffle. Now was as good a time as any to get to work on her paper. It was for one of her more interesting courses, Women, Gender, and Religion, and wasn't due for another three weeks. Lydia was already half done with it, but her nerves demanded she busy her hands. She typed away quickly, fueled by the coffee she intermittently sipped at. Her head unconsciously nodded along with the music.

_'Sweet bitter words,_

_Unlike nothing I have heard,_

_Sing along Mockingbird,_

_You don't affect me,'_

"Whatcha doin'?"

Lydia glanced over her shoulder. He'd switched positions and was now laying on his stomach facing her with his head resting on his arms. She resumed her typing. "Writing a paper for school."

"Whatcha writin' about?"

"The impact that the introduction of foreign religion into Celtic society had on women." He said nothing, so she kept talking as she typed. "Did you know that ancient Celtic tribes used to worship two main gods, a matriarch- Bridget- and a patriarch- Ogma-, who were on equal standing with each other? Kings couldn't even ascend the throne without participating in a 'marriage' ceremony to the mother-goddess. In many ways, the matriarch held more spiritual sway over them than the patriarch. So, naturally, Julius Caesar comes along and fucks everything up."

He actually didn't know that. He remained silent, waiting for her to continue. "He led the Romans in a war against the Celts, and in his writings omitted any involvement of the female warriors in the Celtic ranks. Eventually, they introduced rape as a means of controlling women and used the mother-goddess against them. The general belief was that Bridget was the earth, and all women were an extension of her. They pretty much said 'Hey, you ARE the land, why do you need to own land?' And like that women lost their right to own property."

"That's fucked. Caesar's a dick." Lydia smirked, amused. "Yeah, basically."

"He was exorcised a long time ago." That caught Lydia's attention. She paused her writing to turn and face him. "Did you meet him?" Betelgeuse rolled over onto his back, his head rolling backward off of the edge of her bed. "Nah just heard about it. He didn't take to death very well. Wouldn't quit haunting the conspirators and their descendants, even after his probationary period. The higher ups eventually got tired of his shit and got rid of him for good. Fuckin' amateur." Lydia giggled at the absurdity of it all, and the poltergeist found his chest puffing with masculine pride that he'd been able to get a laugh out of her. "If only I could put _that_ in my essay. The school might have me committed."

"I'd bust ya out."

Lydia considered him. "What all can you do?"

He huffed, examining his filthy fingernails. "You'd be better off asking what I _can't_ do. Shorter list." Lydia opened her mouth to inquire further but was interrupted by the sound of loud, impatient knocking at the front door. She frowned and stood to investigate. "Stay hidden please?"

"Sure thing, babe." And like that, he was gone. Lydia walked down the hallway to the front door and looked through the peephole. It was a police officer. "Fuck..." She muttered to herself and ran back to her room to hide her paraphernalia and spray some Febreze. She quickly made it back to the door just as the knocking started up again. She pulled her shirt down to make sure that all of the important bits were covered before she opened it a crack. "Hello?"

"Does Amanda Nicole Black currently live in this residence?"

Lydia frowned, concerned. "What's this about?" The officer grew impatient with her quickly. "It's a yes or no question, ma'am."

"Yes, but-"

"She's wanted for questioning in relation to the disappearance of Todd Williams. I'm going to be nice and give you ten minutes to produce her before I'll be forced to search the residence."

Lydia slammed the door in the cops face, heart pounding. Todd _fucking_ Williams was a scab on the ass of humanity. If he had disappeared, the world was a better place. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck-" She chanted to herself, halfway ripping her hair out and pacing madly. She rushed down the hall and entered Mandy's room briskly without knocking.

"Mandy! You have to get up." The blonde sat up crankily, rubbing her eyes. "Lyydiiaaa..." She whined, her voice rough with sleep. "There's a cop at the door saying you're wanted for questioning. It's fucking Todd, he's missing." That woke Mandy right up. Her face was whiter now than it had been the first time she'd set eyes on Betelgeuse. She immediately jumped out of bed, stripped off her pajamas, and started redressing in day clothes. Tears were starting to gather in the tall girl's eyes as she hurriedly pulled on some jeans.

"Don't say a fucking word to those pricks, okay? I'm texting my dad right now." She was, her fingers tapping at the touch screen furiously. "He'll have Teddy here in a few hours if he has to pay for the ticket out of New York himself. Those fuckers aren't gonna pin this on you. And don't worry about work, I'm sure Nona can cover your shift. I'll text her now."

Full blown fat tear drops were now streaming down Mandy's red face, last night's mascara causing them to form black streaks. Satisfied with the texts she'd sent out, Lydia set her phone down and pulled Mandy into an impossibly tight hug. "It's gonna be okay. You're okay. They can't do anything to you. You didn't do anything wrong."

 _"I can't do this again!"_ Mandy cried helplessly into Lydia's shoulder, wracked with sobs. Lydia shushed her, maintaining a strong front, but boiling with rage internally. "You don't have to. Just keep your mouth shut until daddy's lawyer shows up. He'll do all the talking. They don't have _shit_ on you." Lydia's phone vibrated on the bed and she checked the screen. "Okay, Teddy will be on the first flight out, should be here in about four hours. Can you be strong for me until then?"

Mandy nodded, wiping the tears from her face. "Come on, you have to go now, baby girl. Everything's gonna be okay." Mandy took a deep breath, collecting herself. Lydia walked with her to the front door and presented her to the waiting officer. She exploded, however, when the cop began to handcuff Mandy, causing the amazon to break down again.

" _Excuse me_?! Is she under arrest? You don't have the authority to do that!"

"I'm going to need you to step back inside, ma'am, or I'll have to charge you with disturbing the peace." Lydia seethed and her nails cut into her palm as she clenched her fists. "Her lawyer is going to here about this! I'll have your badge, you fucking pig!" The officer ignored her and began walking away with her restrained friend. "Don't say a word, Mandy!" Lydia had no choice but to return to the confines of her home. She slammed the door shut behind her with unnecessary force and slid down to the floor, a scream of frustration tearing from her throat. Betelgeuse chose now to reappear, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, a deep scowl marring his features.

He'd stayed silent and intangible throughout the ordeal, but he was pissed. He wasn't sure exactly what was going on or what he could(should) do about it, but he kinda liked the tall chick. She was strong. She'd stood up to him. It bothered him to see someone who'd earned his respect break down like that. He'd almost lost it when the officer threatened to charge Lydia, but he reigned himself in knowing that she'd be displeased with him, and probably more scared than he wanted her to be if he mutilated a cop in front of her. Lydia stood from the floor and stomped past him without sparing a glance in his direction, straight out to the patio where her cigarettes lived. He found her sucking on one greedily, glaring out at the terrace. Her eyes were narrowed on a retreating police vehicle.

"What the fuck was that about?"

Lydia turned to meet her husband's gaze and leaned back against the banister, her hair dancing in the breeze behind her.

"A little over two years ago..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song used in this chapter is "Coming Undone" by Korn.


	9. Chapter 9

"A little over two years ago, Mandy started dating this football player named Todd. He was cute and treated her well enough. I didn't trust him, though. He just gave me the creeps. I mean, they met at her work. Mandy and Nona are strippers." She continued at his blank look. "He kept pressuring her for sex and was constantly blowing money on her. It rubbed me the wrong way. She and I sat down and talked about it and came to the conclusion that if he could wait three months then he really was genuinely interested in her and I owed them both an apology." Lydia paused, flicking her cigarette into the basin.

"So one morning- two months into the three-month wait- I get woken up by a phone call from Mandy at around four in the morning. She's sobbing and incoherent and all I can gather is that she's at his frat house and needs me to come get her." Betelgeuse shifted uncomfortably, sensing where this story was going. "I pick her up and she's a wreck. She's got bruises on her and-" Lydia broke off here, breathing deeply to reign in her fury. "She can't remember anything. I took her straight to the hospital to have a rape kit done and they find three fucking different specimens of semen. She had Rohypnol in her system. I'm out for blood at this point and Mandy doesn't know what to do with herself. So we collected ourselves, we talked it out, and we did the right thing. We took the legal route."

His wife's lip trembled with rage, memories of the trial coming back to her. "They tore her apart on the stand. Basically outright called her a prostitute. Todd's lawyers claimed that they'd been exchanging sex for presents since the beginning of their relationship. Every single shred of cold hard evidence was used against her. Those slimy shits had even taken pictures! Their lawyers said it was _consensual_ , that she'd taken the roofie herself, looking to get fucked up."

Lydia brushed past him on her way back inside. "By the end of it, all the jury could see was a gold digging stripper and three boys with promising futures that some slut was looking to destroy."

Betelgeuse found himself growing angrier and angrier as she continued her story. "And now he's missing. And they're gonna make her relive all that horrible shit just to try and get a false confession out of her. And there's nothing I can do about it." Lydia buried her face in her hands, planted on the couch. He wanted to hunt down and gut the vermin if only for the distress their existence caused his bride. He detested rapists. "Not necessarily true, Lyds."

She lifted her head. "What are you talking about?"

"Y'know, there are a few perks to being Mrs. Ghost-with-the-Most." He had a murderous glint in his jade eyes. Lydia paled considerably at the implications of his words.

"No, absolutely not."

He frowned, tugging on his cuff. "Why not? You don't even know what I wanna do."

"Okay, what do you wanna do?"

"Make em' eat their own cocks."

"Absolutely not." He strolled over to the girl and bent over her, hands planted on either side of her head. She shrunk back, becoming impossibly small under his shadow, caged in. "C'mon baby," he purred, his cool breath ghosting across her lips. "It wouldn't come back to you or your little friends, I promise. They'd just be gone. Dead. Split. Outta here. Afterlife kids. _Deceased_." Lydia shuddered and warmth furled in her gut. Her pink tongue darted out to lick her dry lips. Betelgeuse wanted to bite them. One of his hands was playing with her hair same as it had done the previous night.

"I-I _can't_." Lydia found herself trapped under his piercing gaze, frozen.

He shrugged, raking bloodless fingers through her silky hair, petting, nails scratching her scalp lightly. "If you insist. Just thought I'd offer you the kindness. I don't really need your permission, though." She opened her mouth to protest but found herself cut short. The hand in her hair fisted, almost painfully, and then her mouth was under attack. It was violent. He manipulated her expertly, nibbling at her full bottom lip incessantly until she relented and allowed his tongue to explore the recesses of her mouth. One of his knees came to rest on the couch in between hers, freeing the hand that had been keeping him steady. His newly free hand clutched at her waist greedily, mapping out the shape of her slight curves.

Before Lydia knew what was happening he had her on her back, legs wrapped around him. The hand tangled in her hair tugged gently, urging her to offer him her neck. She complied, dazed. Betelgeuse renewed his assault at the point where her neck met her shoulder, beyond pleased with her compliance and egged on by the soft mewls coming from her bruised lips. She was so fucking _hot_ , it almost burned. Her hands were fisted in the lapels of his suit, neither pulling him closer nor pushing him away. She drew in a sharp breath, comprehension returning to her when his icy hand clutched one of her bare breasts and he bore down on her, grinding against her center. Unbearable heat pooled within her, shooting up her spine.

"S-stop!" Betelgeuse froze. He could feel her tiny little heart pounding hard beneath where his palm squeezed her breast. He wanted so badly to pretend that he hadn't heard a thing and have his wicked way with her. But he didn't. He released the mouth full of living flesh he'd been feasting on and growled against her neck. "You sure?" She shuddered at the scratch of his stubble against her raw, sensitive skin and he clasped her breast just a little tighter, allowing himself the pleasure of dragging a fingertip across her pebble-hard nipple. She hesitated for a moment that seemed to drag on for an eternity. Lydia nodded and he slumped against her, disappointed, before agonizingly slowly pulling himself up and off of her. He stood, admiring the vision of his thoroughly kissed wife. Her face was flush, with arousal rather than embarrassment this time, and her already full lips were puffed up even further, dark pink and slick with saliva. Her knees were still bent and parted, revealing tiny black lace panties. The edge of her shirt rested just below the curve of her breasts, which were heaving, he noted hungrily. The expanse of flesh on her neck that he'd been enjoying was starting to blossom with color. His chest puffed up a bit.

A rap at the front door, the second one that morning, knocked them both out of it. Lydia scrambled clumsily off of the couch, tripping over her own feet. "It's Nona." She called back to him after checking through the peephole. She combed shaking fingers through her tousled hair several times and took a deep breath in order make herself appear more together, before opening the door. Nona stormed right past her, carrying a duffel bag, too pissed to notice Lydia's countenance.

"I can't believe those fucking arseholes think that Mandy could have had anything to do with that walking, talking human garbage skipping town." Nona was on a rampage. She'd thrown her shoes off, like she usually did when she visited, and threw herself across the couch, blissfully unaware of the fornicating they'd been doing in exactly that spot just seconds before. Today, Nona wore sweatpants that hung low on her wide hips and a form fitting green sweater. "Hey, Betelgeuse." She greeted him politely, lips curved with disdain, though this time her scorn was not aimed at him. "Hey," he greeted back, still rather satisfied with his progress with Lydia.

"Fucking prick," she continued, "probably owed some hard-hitting dealer too much money and couldn't ask daddy for help." Todd had an unhealthy appreciation for cocaine. "If there's any bloody justice in the world he's being cut up into tiny pieces in some psychopath's basement to be fed to dogs as we speak. Just look at his facebook page!" Nona sat Indian style and hunched over her phone, tapping and scrolling until she'd found what she was looking for. Lydia leaned over from the back of the couch to look as Nona offered her phone up for inspection. His page had nearly a hundred new posts, mostly attention seekers who barely knew him, wishing for his well-being and safe return. A few of the posters theorized the same as the cops, that Mandy must have had something to do it. There were lots of comments under those posts _. "They're crucifying her!"_ Nona hissed, baring her white teeth. She resembled a fierce lioness.

Lydia's upper lip curled in disgust, honey eyes scanning the comments. She handed the phone back to Nona, no longer able to stomach the accusations being made against Mandy.

"Lemme see a picture of the slimeball." Betelgeuse requested, interjecting. He'd reclaimed his spot in the recliner, still utterly pleased with himself.

"Don't!" Lydia shouted suddenly. Nona held her phone to her chest, regarding them both with suspicion. "He'll go looking for him and _kill_ him!" One perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised thoughtfully, and then Nona tossed her phone to the poltergeist, who caught it with ease.

 _"Nona!"_ Lydia felt a little betrayed, but she understood. Their moral compasses weren't always in line with one another. Nona's eyes widened and she rose to her knees and leaned over the couch, looking at Lydia as though she'd never seen her before. A searching hand rose slowly towards her friend's neck.

"Is that... a hickey?" Lydia's hand rose to slap over where she knew the mark would be. "No!" She answered, too loudly, too quickly, stepping backward as color rushed to her face.

"It IS!" Nona hopped over the back of the couch and tore Lydia's hand away from her neck to investigate the blooming red discoloration. "You dirty, dirty girl!" She accused, looking back and forth between her and the poltergeist- who paid no mind. He seemed to be experiencing difficulty with the modern device. If Lydia were a different girl, Nona might have torn into her for seeking carnal pleasures while her friend was in such a dire state of need. But Nona knew Lydia better than that. She highly doubted that her friend had made the first move, much less anticipated that a move would be made on her at all. The raven haired girl had a tragic sense of self-worth, really.

"Stop it! Shut up!" Lydia was mortified. Her poor abused lips suffered even more as she gnawed at them in discomfort. Nona stopped teasing Lydia completely when her phone came floating slowly in the air towards her. Mouth agape at the act of magic, she grasped it out of the air after about half a minute of staring at it dumbly. The screen was lit up with a photo of a handsome red-haired boy in a football uniform, standing alone on the field and flashing the camera a beautiful smile. Betelgeuse was chuckling darkly.

"OH, he's not gonna be causin' trouble for anyone anymore, except maybe Juno." Nona wore a puzzled expression at the remark, not recognizing the name, while Lydia's complexion whitened with realization.

"Now!" The poltergeist floated up from the recliner lazily, lying on his back in the air. One knee crossed over the other and he rested his head in his hands, gazing up at the ceiling.

"Show me the other two." He suspected he'd recognize their faces.


	10. Chapter 10

He did, of course. They were the same drunk frat boys he'd seen the night of Lydia's birthday. After getting over the shock of witnessing his juice at work, insignificant as the parlor trick was, Nona bounded to his side to show him pictures of the other slimy rapist fucks. Lydia was having a fit.

"I can NOT believe you, Nona! I get it, I want justice for Mandy, too, but this- this is NOT justice. This is murder and I will have NO part in it!"

Nona was losing her patience. "I don't give a _damn_ , Lydia. They don't get to get away with this shit. Do you think Mandy's the only girl they've done this to?" Lydia knew the answer. How could she be? These were obscenely rich kids, privileged and entitled. As far as they were concerned, the world was their oyster. If a few nobodies were crushed under the weight of their influence, what did it matter?

"No."

"No," Nona repeated bitterly. "And they'll keep on doing it. Long after they leave this place and plant their roots. And they'll always, _always_ , get away with it."

Lydia felt lost. She knew in her heart that Nona was right, and yet her gut lurched sickeningly at the thought of being complicit in two murders. Guilt was already weighing down heavily on her for the loss of Todd, piece of shit that he was. It was her fault that Betelgeuse killed him. If only she'd just moved somewhere more secluded, blocked herself off from other people, kept her guard up- then none of this would have happened.

"So... _what_?" Lydia was on the verge of hysteria. "We just stalk them and let my dead psychopath husband-"

"Ouch." He muttered, clutching his chest in mock offense. Lydia continued without missing a beat, unconcerned for his feelings. "-murder them? Just like that? Problem solved?"

"That's the idea, honey," Betelgeuse answered, though it was clear her inquiries were directed towards Nona. The caramel skinned girl placed taught, manicured fingertips against her hairline and took a calming breath before approaching Lydia and placing her hands on the girl's shoulders beseechingly.

"Look. Love. I wanted to murder those sons of bitches as soon as I found out what happened. You talked me out of it, and I thank you for that. I wouldn't do well in prison. But," She broke off and took another frustrated breath, dark coffee eyes meeting honey shaded ones, "we did things your way already, and Mandy was devastated-"

Lydia pulled away from her, roughly shaking her friend's hands from her shoulders. "Are you saying it's my fault that Mandy lost?"

"What?" Nona followed after her, "No! I just-"

"You know what?" Lydia interrupted as her eyes welled up with tears, deeply hurt, and blinded by her warring emotions. "Why don't you two," she gestured to Betelgeuse bitterly, "just go off and do whatever you're gonna do and leave me the fuck out of it." She turned abruptly and stormed to her room, slamming and locking the door behind her. "Lydia!" Nona chased after her, banging on the door. "C'mon, you _know_ that's not what I meant!" The only answer she got was silence. She pressed her ear against the door and heard muffled sobs.

"Fuck..." She muttered, slumping against the door. She and Lydia had never fought before. Nona checked her watch, then raised her gaze to the only other person in the room. "I've got a couple hours before work. Wanna go get a drink?"

* * *

Betelgeuse had never felt so conflicted before. He very much wanted to be on his wife's good side, especially now considering the recent development in his plans to get into her pants. However, he'd never _not_ killed when he wanted to kill. He was an impulsive creature. And these fucks were just begging for it. Her hot little lesbian friend was egging him on, too, which made the idea of slowly torturing the kids even more appealing. The poltergeist wanted to comfort his wife after her emotionally charged disagreement with Nona but knew that he didn't have much to say that would diffuse the situation. Probably just make her angrier.

So when Nona offered to take him out for a drink, he heartily complied. They walked down the street from Lydia's apartment in silence for a little while, Betelgeuse with his hands in his pockets and Nona with her arms crossed. "Why isn't anyone giving you funny looks?" She'd asked after awhile, having grown tired of the silence. It was broad daylight. There was traffic and they'd already passed a handful of students. No one had spared them a second glance, seemingly looking right through him.

"You only see me because I _let_ you see me." Betelgeuse chuckled, an idea coming to him as a student approached them walking the opposite way. "Watch this." He reached out and physically removed the kid's baseball cap, flipping it into the air. It blew away in the breeze and the kid scrambled after it, dropping his books. Nona laughed, the tension from her fight with Lydia easing a bit.

"Lydia's a freak." He continued as they started up towards the bar again. "The living shouldn't be able to see the dead, but she can. I can hide from her when I want to, but not completely, and that's only because I'm especially powerful. Weaker, younger ghosts don't stand a chance."

Nona contemplated his words. "Why do you think that is? What makes her different?"

"I've gotta theory, but I'd have to see her family tree." They stopped in front of a rustic looking tavern and Betelgeuse opened the door for her with a flourish, following behind as she entered. The few patrons there were staring at her as if she had two heads _. 'Oh!'_ It must have looked as though the door magically opened and closed to grant her entrance. Nona ignored the stares and made her way to a dark corner of the bar, where she could converse with her friend's husband quietly, away from prying eyes.

She ordered two whiskeys, neat, and resumed her questioning. "Well, I know that her mother came from Russia, and her father's parents are Aryan Germans. What exactly do you need to know?"

Betelgeuse furrowed his brows, downing his whiskey in one shot. It burned pleasantly on the way down. He was incapable of succumbing to the effects of drugs and alcohol, but it was nice nevertheless. He dug in his pockets and passed Nona some crumpled up bills. "Get me another one, I'm paying. I woulda pegged her mom as Irish, with the red hair n' all."

Nona scoffed and shot him a look. "That uptight bitch is _not_ Lydia's mother," Nona called over the barkeep and ordered some more drinks while he stroked his chin. "Lydia doesn't talk about her mother, and for good reason." The curly haired girl's expression had turned grim as she sipped her whiskey slowly. "I'd tell you all about it, but it's really not my place. Lydia's pissed enough at me." The memory of the fight turned Nona solemn.

Betelgeuse clapped her roughly on the back with one hand and lit a cigarette with the other. "Don't worry about it! Shit, she forgave me and I almost killed her. She'll _definitely_ forgive you. Girl's got a big heart. Doesn't have it in her to hold grudges."

Nona lit a cigarette of her own and regarded him coolly. She blew out a smooth stream of smoke before speaking next. "What exactly are your intentions with her?" Betelgeuse cackled madly. "Now you wanna give me the third degree? Alright, mama bear. My _intentions_ are to keep Lydia from getting herself killed as long as possible and to eventually worm my way into her tight little pants. Happy?"

She was not. "She's too good for you."

He threw back another drink. "I know. Don't care. I'm a selfish bastard like that."

"I should exorcise you." The poltergeist's eyes glinted dangerously and he leaned across the table to stare Nona down. The girl stood her ground. "It'd kill her. Worse than that, actually. Our souls are bound for an eternity. Wherever one is, the other must follow. Exorcise me and you exorcise her, toots." He smirked and leaned back in his chair to throw his legs up on the table, knowing he'd won.

"Besides, you need me. This town's got a pest problem," his smirk evolved into a fully fledged bloodthirsty grin and he threw his arms out to his sides, presenting himself, "and I'm just the exterminator for the job."


	11. Chapter 11

Lydia sobbed uselessly into her pillow, feeling like a lonely pathetic sixteen-year-old again. She knew that Nona had not meant to implicate her in Mandy's plight. Still, Lydia couldn't help but see the truth in her words. She'd been the one to talk Nona out of extracting her own form of revenge. It was her who had convinced Mandy that there was no way her father's expensive lawyer wouldn't get a guilty verdict. The chiming ring of her cell phone shook her out of her self-depreciating reverie. It was her father. Lydia composed herself before answering.

"Daddy?"

She heard the front door open and close and stood to investigate. She cracked her door to peak out, opening it fully when she saw that no one was there.

"Hey, pumpkin. How's Amanda?"

Her father and Delia adored Mandy. The girl had stayed with them every Christmas for the past three years. "How do you think? She's a wreck, dad." Lydia's voice broke.

"Oh, sweetheart, don't cry. You know they can't actually pin this on her, it's absolutely ridiculous. It's all hot air, they're just grasping at straws." Lydia walked numbly around the empty apartment, desperately missing her friends' presence.

"I know." Her voice sounded hollow in her ears. "I hate seeing her like this. It's not fair."

Charles Deetz empathized with his daughter. He knew all too well what it felt like to watch a loved one crash and burn, helpless to do anything stop it. "Life isn't fair sometimes. That's one of the harder lessons to learn. Listen," he began, hesitantly. "I'm sorry about this morning. We were too harsh on you. You're just trying to make the best of a bad... really bad situation. You shouldn't be punished for that."

Lydia smiled a small smile through the tears and hugged herself tightly with one arm. "I forgive you. It's okay."

"Look, honey," her father began, "I want you to call me if you need anything. Anything at all, okay? I know I've already told you that a hundred times, but... I worry about you, baby. There are things in this world that are out of my control and you are more important to me than anything. I haven't always made the right decisions when it comes to you. I'm so sorry for that. I want to be the person that you turn to when things go wrong."

Her father had never, not once, been so open with her. "Is something wrong, Dad?"

Charles Deetz smiled a sad smile on the other side of the phone. "No. Nothing's wrong, sweetheart. I've got to get back to work. I sent you a present in the mail for your birthday. I'm sorry I couldn't just drive it up to you. You know how work is. Give me a call when you get it, I know you'll love it. Ted gave me a call before he boarded, he should be there within the hour. You can expect Amanda back home tonight. I love you very much."

Lydia smiled her own sad little smile. "I love you, too, daddy. Thank you. Goodbye." She set down her phone and wiped away the last of her drying tears. Her conversation with her father had placated her. It was strange to hear him speak in such a heartfelt manner. He was a very private, guarded person, much like her. She frowned at the time- 2 p.m.- and glanced at the front door once more. ' _Where did they go?'_ She hadn't actually meant it when she'd ordered them to run off together and plot the murders of Josh Peters and Noah Thomas. Nevertheless, it seemed they'd taken her advice. Lydia noticed that Nona's duffel bag was still there. They'd be back, then. It contained Nona's work clothes, and she was taking Mandy's five o'clock shift today.

The empty, too quiet apartment quickly became stifling. Lydia threw on some clothes- another pair of black skinnies, a baggy black sweater, and her go to combat boots- grabbed her digital camera and headphones, and was out the door _. 'They want to leave me all alone wondering where they are, then fine. I can do the same.'_ Today was windier than yesterday, and the sky was swirling violently with dark clouds- prime weather for Lydia's brand of photography. She worked for a small magazine publication that had a use for her style. They sent her modest stipend checks for every photograph of hers that was published. The job didn't generate enough cash to pay the bills, her father took care of that, but it was enough to keep her in cigarettes and food- not to mention the notoriety. Not many photographers her age could say that they'd had their work published. Nancy Sinatra's rich voice crooned to her hauntingly as she made her way towards the nearby woods. The windswept, shadowy canopy was sure to produce some beautiful photos for her.

_'I was five and he was six,_

_We rode on horses made of sticks,_

_He wore black and I wore white,_

_He would always win the fight'_

The digital camera was used exclusively for work that she planned on selling. Buyers weren't interested in mailed-in polaroids. It was too inconvenient. They'd much rather take their pick from a batch of photos from the same shoot, wrapped up neatly in an email, than be bothered to deal with paper. Lydia still had her old beloved polaroid camera, and used it often, just for personal reasons or school projects only. The girl examined the low hanging branch of a nearby tree closely, snapping a spider in its web at the exact moment it curled in its legs at the force of the blowing wind, the web shuddering.

_'Bang Bang, he shot me down,_

_Bang Bang, I hit the ground_

_Bang Bang, that awful sound,_

_Bang Bang, my baby shot me down'_

* * *

Nona and Betelgeuse passed their time plotting quietly in the dark pub. Nona stopped drinking awhile ago, not wishing to be intoxicated when it came time to dance, but Betelgeuse had kept it up. He seemed to have an unlimited supply of grimy, crumpled bills buried in his pockets. He also appeared utterly sober. They'd come to the conclusion that they both wanted Mandy's rapists dead, and for the same reasons. So, she told him all about Josh Peters and Noah Thomas. Josh, the blond, was engaged to Lydia's high school bully but was constantly stepping out on her, to the bimbo's ignorance. He had been raised in Autumn Woods and was the captain of the swim team. His father was the professor that he'd offered to scare for Nona the previous night. Rumor had it that he hadn't had good enough scores to be admitted, and his daddy had been forced to use his influence to get the little shit accepted.

Noah Thomas came from California. His dad was supposedly some big shot Hollywood producer. He was the captain of the basketball team- the poltergeist was starting to notice a trend- and was there on a full ride, set to go pro after his graduation. They all belonged to the same fraternity.

Nona stopped mid sentence when she glanced down at her watch. "Fuck! Is that the time? We've got to get out of here, I've got work in an hour." The second half of her sentence was quieter than the first. The bartender had been watching her talk to herself all evening, thoroughly weirded out. Money was money, though, so he'd kept his mouth shut and brought over her whiskeys without a word each time. Betelgeuse slammed some more bills down on the table, enough to cover the tab, and stood to follow her out the door. "No worries. I've got everything I need. Pleasure doin' business with ya, darlin'." The two had formed an odd sort camaraderie during the past few hours spent plotting. Nona shrugged, crossing her arms to shield herself as the harsh wind cut through her sweater. "Enemy of my enemy is my friend."

When the door to Lydia's apartment didn't budge, Nona searched the top of the door frame for the spare key. "Lydia?" She called out as they entered. There was no answer. "Lydia?" She called, a bit louder this time. Still, the apartment was quiet. "God fucking damn it!" Betelgeuse was suddenly furious. He turned and gripped the banister in front of the entrance to their apartment, scrutinizing the parking lot for any signs of a head of black hair. "I never should have left! Who knows where the fuck she went off to?" Nona closed the door, passed him, a duffel bag over her shoulder, and tossed him the spare key. "Calm your tits. You're worse than my father. I know where she is." Betelgeuse followed her back down the steps they'd ascended just minutes before.

"She went that way." Nona pointed in the direction of a wooded area not far from the complex. "It's her favorite spot to photograph. Lots of creepy crawlies. And this is exactly the type of weather that gets her creative juices flowing. Wait!" She called out, as he started off in the direction she'd pointed in. "Tell her I'm sorry, please? I have to get to work or I'd tell her myself." There was a crack of thunder. The rain had yet to start pouring, but it would be coming any minute now. "Sure thing. Drive carefully, Beyonce. Wouldn't wanna see ya in Juno's office. Then Lydia'd _really_ be pissed at ya."

He threw one last half cocked grin her way, before going off in search of his wife for the second time in twenty-four hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song used in this chapter is "Bang Bang(My Baby Shot Me Down)" by Nancy Sinatra.


	12. Chapter 12

The storm eventually broke forth from the clouds, and it came with a vengeance. Lydia had known that it was going to rain when she began her excursion, yet it still managed to sneak up on her. She was about a mile out and had been in the process of capturing some incredible photos of a moderately large centipede in the midst of a battle with a beetle. The centipede was winning. Then, it came. There was a deafening crack of thunder, then fat drops of water were pouring down in waves so thick that her surroundings were obscured.

Cursing, the girl quickly stripped off her sweater and wrapped it tightly around her electronics, clutching it to her chest and hunching over protectively, acting as a human umbrella. She lifted her head minutely, searching for a suitable shelter, not expecting to find anything. A nearby tree with a thick roof of foliage seemed the best choice. The canopy slowed the flow of the rain. The scant moments she'd spent under the downpour already had her soaked and freezing. The rain was still falling thickly enough through the leaves that she didn't feel comfortable unwrapping her sweater to see if her phone and camera were undamaged. Once more, thunder resonated throughout the area and Lydia plopped down at the base of the tree, resolutely, curling herself up around the bundled lump of damp cloth protectively. There's no way she could make it back without destroying her camera. She could easily buy a new one, but the hundreds of photos stored on the memory card were another story. Walking back simply wasn't an option. Nothing to do but wait for the storm to end.

Today had been another shitty day in the long line of shitty days that was her life. Not even her wedding day compared to this one. Really, she could barely remember that. Most of the details had only been recounted to her once she'd woken from her month long coma.

Lydia slammed her head back against the trunk, savoring the slight pain masochistically. "WHY ME?" The question was ripped from her throat viciously and subsequently drowned out by the torrent. "WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS? I'M NICE TO ANIMALS AND CHILDREN! I MOSTLY LISTEN TO MY PARENTS! I GET GOOD GRADES! WHY DO YOU HATE ME? **WHAT DID I DO**? _**WHY**_ **WHY** _WHY_ why why why..." Her voice trailed off. No tears escaped her, they'd all been wasted earlier in the day.

Lydia didn't believe in God. She believed in Juno and the Waiting Room. Her pleading rant was aimed at the forces of nature that saw fit to serve her a heaping serving of cold shit at every turn. The only answer she got was another ear-splitting roar of thunder, followed by a blinding flash of lightning. Lydia continued rambling to herself, in whispers this time, throat sore from her tirade.

"I'm sorry, Mandy. I'm sorry that I don't know what the right thing to do is anymore. _I'm so fucking sorry_. I'm sorry, Daddy. I'm sorry that you got saddled with me. I'm sorry that Mom couldn't be better. I'm sorry that you couldn't just live the life that you wanted to live with Delia and that I had to come along and _fuck everything up_. I'm sorry, Mama. I'm sorry-"

This was how Betelgeuse found her. Half naked, soaked to the bone, and muttering to herself like a crazy person. He stood before her, completely dry, hands on his hip, anger dissipating. He'd been ready to tear into her for running off, but this was just pathetic. He'd searched for her frantically for a little over an hour, worry starting to seep in once the storm had started and he still hadn't seen any sign of her. Then he'd heard a female voice shouting, muted by the rain, and had rushed to the source. She sensed his presence immediately and her ramblings ceased, eyes snapping open.

"Give me permission to get you out of here." She furrowed her brows in confusion. "Okay, you have permission." She croaked out quietly, but he heard her. He reached down abruptly with both arms and pulled her into a tight embrace. She lacked her usual warmth. When he finally released her, they were standing in her living room. She resembled one of the drowned kittens he'd compared her to earlier, sopping hair plastered against her icy skin, wearing nothing but a white tank and jeans, also soaked through. She seemed disoriented by the sudden change in surroundings. "Gimme that." He tugged the damp bundle from her arms, and with a wave of his hand she was completely dry and dressed in comfortable, thick flannel pajamas. She hugged herself, still shivering from the residual chill of the rain and wind. Now he tore into her.

"What _the fuck_ do you think you're doing?" He advanced on her and she shrank back against the wall. "What if I didn't find you, huh? You could've frozen to death. You could've made some pack of coyotes a dismal dinner. Are you _fucking stupid_?" He wasn't yelling, but his voice was raised and with each word he'd advanced closer until, once again, he had her caged in. Lydia found herself growing furious, and pushed him. He budged about an inch, her strength not enough to force him to break away from the wall.

"Just shut up! You don't care about me! This is all about _you_ and your _precious freedom_! Well, I just don't GIVE A DAMN! I wish you hadn't found me! I wish I HAD died if only to spite you!" He growled viciously, sneering down at her. " _Don't ever say that again_." He hissed lowly, fists clenching against the wall. "You don't even know what the fuck you're talking about. You're just being a spoiled little brat. Do you know how many stupid living fucks spend their whole lives looking for exactly what you have?"

"I never asked for this!" She gripped the lapels of his suit and shook him desperately. "I never asked for immortality! I never asked for you to kill Todd! Do you know how shitty that makes me feel? A person is dead and it's _my_ fault!" His aggression melted away a bit. "How do you figure that?" Her grip on his suit slackened. "I knew what you were like. And I went to college anyway. I did the selfish thing. I should've gone to live in the wilderness, away from people. Somewhere where you couldn't hurt anyone. Like Antarctica or something, I don't fucking know."

She'd left him dumbstruck again. How could she possibly blame herself for the shit that he did? His hands fell from the wall to her shoulders, fists relaxing. He noted, with guilt, that she still shivered here and there. "Look, babe. You may be my wife, but you're not my keeper. I'm a killer. I'm a bastard. I'm gonna do bad things, no matter what you do. You could move to the North Pole and I'm sure I'd still find a way to do something that you find immoral. You can't blame yourself for that. _I_ can't have you blaming yourself. That's fucking crazy."

Lydia broke away, shaking his hands off, suddenly unable to bear the closeness. "You don't get it. If you don't understand then there's nothing I can say to make you." She went to the kitchen and removed a leftover bottle of birthday wine from the fridge to pour herself a glass. Thunder rattled the patio doors. He placed both hands on the bar and hunched over, staring at her, all previous anger gone. "I don't wanna fight with you, Lyds. Despite what you seem to think, I _do_ care about you and I _don't_ enjoy seeing you upset."

Lydia was exhausted. She drifted listlessly from the kitchen, past him, to the living room. Wine in hand, she draped herself across her favorite spot on the couch. "You don't even know me. How can you _care_ about me? You're just saying what you think I want to hear." He plopped down next to her, throwing an arm over her shoulders. Lightning flashed through the French doors and lit them up. "Not true. If I was saying what I thought you wanted to hear, I'd promise not to kill those kids. But I'm not gonna lie, I have every intention of torturing them. Slowly." She cringed, sipping her wine. "And that's not on you." She shivered and he reached across her lap to the blanket she'd folded up so neatly and sprawled it over her. "I know you better than you think I do."

Lydia snorted and reached forward to grab the remote off of the coffee table. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." He replied, not a hint of a joke in his voice. "I wouldn'ta made that deal if I didn't like you. And," he started, after she looked like she was about to throw him some biting retort, "I'm not talking about how you looked. You looked like any other depressed goth chick. I've been around for a long time, I've seen lots of goth chicks. I'm talking about _you_. I like _you_ , Lydia." It was the first time he'd ever called her by her name. She'd settled the tv on a re-run of _The Walking Dead_ \- her favorite show. It was the episode where Shane busts open the barn full of walkers on Herschel's farm. Her cheeks were dusted light pink from his admission.

"What if I don't like you?" She returned rebelliously. He knew she liked him. He wouldn't be able to sit there all snug with her if she didn't like him. Still, he humored her. "Tough for me, I guess." He threw his feet up on the coffee table and leaned back, getting comfortable. She was all out of fight. Eventually, she relaxed against his side, her head resting against his chest. "What is this?" He asked, referring to the show. He thought he'd seen all the zombie movies out there. Lydia paused the tv and lifted her gaze to his, disbelievingly. "Are you fucking kidding me? Only the best show in the world! Okay. If we're gonna do this, we're gonna do it right." She was suddenly re-energized.

Lydia popped up from the couch and practically skipped to her room. She returned a moment later with six DVD box sets, a bag of weed, and her bong, all of which were promptly placed on the coffee table. "I'm not going to waste my time explaining the plot to you, we're just gonna watch it from the beginning. I don't have shit to do until Monday so this is what we can do till then." Her stomach chose then to growl loudly. She realized then that she hadn't eaten all day, too wrapped up in everything that was happening to even think about it. She searched her pockets for her phone to order a pizza, before remembering that these weren't her clothes. These were clothes that he'd summoned for her. Her phone was wrapped up in her sweater, along with her- "My camera!"

Lydia ran to the kitchen bar where he'd placed her bundled-up sweater, unfolding it carefully and examining the expensive piece of equipment for damage. It was dry _. 'Good.'_ She grabbed her phone, which was also dry, and dialed the number for her favorite pizza joint. "Do you have any pizza preferences?" She asked as it began ringing. "Babe, I eat bugs. No, I don't have any preferences." He answered sarcastically.

"Um Hello?... Delivery, please... Prestige Point Apartments, C41... Yes, I'd like a large stuffed crust pizza with light sauce and extra cheese, with bacon and banana peppers... Cash... Thank you so much." She hung up and resumed what she'd been doing before. She changed the tv input and placed Disc One in the DVD player, before reclaiming her place at his side and taking a hit off of the bong. She offered it to him, and he turned her down. "Nah. It'd be a waste. I can't get fucked up anymore, and that shit's expensive." Lydia frowned and set her bong down, leaning back into the couch, and his arm, as the first episode started playing. "That blows."

He simply smiled and the hand on the other side of her began playing with a lock of her hair. "Yeah, it blows."


	13. Chapter 13

Time passed quickly while they watched her favorite show. She'd had to get up several times to change the discs. They were on season two now. A half empty box of pizza lay skewed on the coffee table, next to a partially smoked bong and an empty bottle of wine. ' _Typical college kid_.' Lydia had cut out the middle man hours ago and brought the whole bottle out of the fridge to stay in the living room with her. Cigarette breaks were taken out on the patio in between episodes. Lydia because she was an addict, Betelgeuse because she was especially adorable like this- tipsy and passionate about zombies- and he wanted to be close to her. Right now, her head was laid in his lap while his legs were stretched out in front of him. One of his hands supported the weight of his head while the other pet her long hair at a leisurely pace. She was snuggled up tightly in red flannel and black plush.

His bride was an affectionate drunk. Ordinarily, he was the one who stole caresses, but it seemed she was finding every excuse to touch him tonight. Her hand would grab his excitedly to point out something that happened differently in the comics, or some interesting tidbit about the actors. He hadn't needed to pull her closer to him, she'd melted to his side, her head eventually using his thigh as a pillow. If she were any other woman, he might have taken advantage of her intoxicated state, but this was his _wife,_ not some bar floozy. He had all the time in the world.

Most of the memories of his past life, his living life, had faded, but he remembered his parents. His father had been a big, gruff, scary man. Liked to hit the bottle and his wife. No, Betelgeuse couldn't remember much from that time, but he remembered the bloodied, beaten up face of his mother. Clear as fucking day. If there was one thing he was never going to be, it was a bad husband. He wasn't a poet. He'd never be able to make her swoon with beautiful words. Fuck, he'd already forgotten their anniversary. But he _would_ destroy her enemies. He _would_ make sure that she had anything that her little black heart desired. And he'd never, _ever_ lay an angry hand on her- even if she didn't have Juno's protections. Old bitch had wasted her time with that shit. Should've known him better.

Lydia was fighting sleep desperately and losing. Her big eyes would shut for long periods, before snapping open adamantly- determined to stay awake. She wanted to be able to greet Mandy whenever the girl came home. It was an hour past midnight and she still hadn't returned. Lydia had called her father during their last cigarette break to see if he'd heard from the lawyer, but she'd been disappointed to hear that he hadn't. Her eyes snapped open again, this time at the sound of knocking. Pausing _The Walking Dead_ , she practically flew from her nest to the door to look through the peephole. "It's Mandy!... And Daddy's lawyer. Hide, please?"

Betelgeuse sighed dramatically in feigned exasperation, rolling his head. "If my lady insists." And then he was gone. Lydia threw open the door and attacked Mandy, folding the statuesque blonde into a tight embrace.

"Are you okay?" The words were murmured into Mandy's hair. Lydia had to stand on her tip toes to hug her properly. Mandy returned the hug with equal enthusiasm. "Aside from very badly needing a shower, I'm just fine." The dark haired girl released her friend and turned to her father's lawyer to greet him in kind, with just a bit less urgency. Theodore "Teddy" Walker was a long-time family friend of the Deetz's, and her father's best friend. He'd written up Charles's prenuptial agreement before her father and Delia had gotten married, and had served as the best man at their wedding. He'd been the one to deliver a seven-year-old Lydia to her father and his new wife after her mother was incarcerated. "Hi, Teddy! It's been awhile. Please, come in." She hadn't seen him since he'd worked his ass off trying to get Todd, Noah, and Josh locked up.

"Coffee? Pizza? Oh!-" Lydia offered, breaking off when she noticed that in her excitement to see Mandy she'd neglected to hide her paraphernalia. Ted's eyes followed hers and he smirked. "Don't worry, I won't tell your dad. He and I did our fair share of partying in college." Lydia laughed out loud at the mental image of her father getting stoned. "But yes, please, I'd love some coffee. It's been a hell of a day." Lydia made her way around the bar to start a pot. Mandy, unconcerned with the presence of the official male authority, hunkered down on the couch and took a greedy hit off the bong, cashing it in one go. She looked like hell. There were bags under her eyes and her beautiful golden hair was knotted in places. "I'll take some, too, please." She spoke as the last stream of smoke left her lungs. She grabbed the plush blanket and wrapped herself up tight.

"Just like I thought, they didn't have anything on her." Teddy began, sitting down on the bar stool. He was a handsome man, in his late 40's with salt and pepper hair and piercing blue eyes. Lydia'd only ever seen him dressed up in nice, expensive suits. "But this... this is a weird case. The only evidence they have is three bloody fingernails, all his." Lydia paled. "As far as they can tell, he was... Swallowed by the Earth. Josh Peters and Noah Thomas came into the station last night, drunk, demanding to speak with Chief Williams." Todd's father was the police chief. It was how the three were able to get away with murder. "They were ranting and raving about skeletons coming to life and saying that Todd was in danger. It took some convincing, but eventually they were able to get a police car out to the park where they claimed that the incident took place. The fingernails were all they found. A squad stayed out all night digging, but they couldn't find anything. He's just... Gone." The lawyer was definitely not mourning the loss of the rapist scum. What had him perturbed was the manner of the boy's disappearance.

"They won't be bothering Amanda again. I made it clear that if she was approached again in relation to any of those boys that I'd slap the city with a harassment suit faster than they could say 'Guilty.'" Lydia smiled, pleased by this, and passed him a cup of Joe. She'd known Teddy long enough to know how he liked his coffee. Mandy stood from the couch, still wrapped up in the comfortable blanket, and accepted her mug from Lydia. "I've never seen anything like this before. And I've seen some crazy shit, so that's really saying something." It was a rarity to hear Teddy Walker curse. "I want you girls to promise me that you'll be careful. There's a killer in this town. A crafty one."

Mandy took the seat next to him and leaned her head on his shoulder. She really did look miserable. She was usually exuberant, her smile bright enough to light up a room. If she were a flower, she'd be a daisy. "We promise, Teddy." Lydia declined to speak. "I'm serious. If you must go out at night, go with friends. Stay in well-lit, populated areas. Try to keep your drinking confined to this apartment, or Nona's. You know, as well as I do, that drunk people, especially women, are easy targets for predators." They did. Lydia wished that she could tell him about the truth of Todd's disappearance, but knew that she couldn't. Her father hadn't even disclosed the Maitlands to him. He was a good guy, but he was too straight-laced, too normal to be able to handle the weight of that information.

"We will, Teddy. Thank you for your concern." Lydia placed a comforting pale hand on his tanned one from the other side of the counter and he smiled sadly. "You're like a niece to me, Lydia. Your father and I might as well be brothers. Worrying about you is just a part of the deal." He stood, having finished his coffee, and gave the girls one last hug each before departing for the local Hilton. He'd be on a flight back to New York first thing in the morning. As soon as the door shut behind him, Betelgeuse was back.

"I was wondering where you'd gone off to," Mandy muttered at his sudden entrance before he swept the sputtering blonde up into a swinging hug. "Good to see ya, good lookin'! Lyds woulda fallen asleep hours ago, but she was waiting up for you." A pale hand slapped his arm lightly, honey eyes glowering at him. "Put her down." He complied, dropping the dazed Mandy unceremoniously. She stumbled a bit and grasped the edge of the couch for purchase before her eyes fell on the empty bottle of Rose. "You drank all the wine, didn't you? Oh well. I could really use a drink." With a flourish, the poltergeist presented her with a wine glass filled to the brim with a pink Moscato. "Well damn," Mandy exclaimed, smiling her first smile since showing back up at the apartment. "I could get used to that."

Lydia's glower remained. "Don't let him fool you, he's just trying to get on your good side. Why don't YOU tell her why a cop dragged her out of bed this morning?"

Betelgeuse sniggered, not feeling the least bit guilty. "I am a _magician_ , babes, and a magician never reveals his secrets." Lydia's lips pursed. "Is that what you call it?"

Mandy looked back and forth between them, sipping her conjured wine, face blanketed with confusion. "What are you two going on about?"

Lydia pointed an accusatory finger at her husband. " _He_ got rid of Todd last night. He's not just missing, he's dead. He and Nona disappeared for two hours today, as far as I can tell, to conspire to murder Josh and Noah."

"W-what?" Mandy's blue eyes were wide. "He's really gone? For good?" The whole time she'd been being questioned, Mandy hadn't allowed the idea that he was _really gone_ to infiltrate her thoughts. It was just too easy, and nothing was easy for her. Betelgeuse was filing his nails. "You're welcome." He deadpanned. She was still for a long time, before she placed her glass of wine on the counter, next to her forgotten coffee mug, and hugged the poltergeist tightly. "Thank you." He seemed intensely uncomfortable. The hug he'd given her when she'd shown back up had been meant to knock her off guard. This was different. He simply patted her back with one hand, the other one placed stiffly at his side. "Yeah, sure, no problem. Didn't do it for you, though, so don't start gettin' any ideas. Fucker was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, talkin' shit about the wrong girl."

Lydia couldn't bring herself to admonish Mandy in the same way she had Nona. It just wasn't the same. Mandy was the one who had been attacked. Mandy was the one who deserved justice. Said girl broke away from the hug and retrieved her wine.

"What took you guys so long? I thought you would have been finished up hours ago." Lydia inquired. Mandy just sighed and took a seat on the couch, the other two following her lead. "They tried every trick in the book. I did exactly what you told me to do, didn't say shit, and _boy_ did that piss them off. Buried Teddy in paperwork as soon as he arrived. Did everything they could to stall him. They _really_ hate him. Once he finally got to me, it only took about forty-five minutes of dialogue before he had me out of there."

Lydia could imagine why Teddy had earned the local police's disdain. The three boys' lawyer had been taken aback when two years ago Mandy entered the courtroom with a fancy New York attorney and not some court appointed shmuck. Had she not been a sex worker, Teddy very well could have gotten a guilty verdict for all three of them. But this wasn't New York City. It was a small town, and prejudices ran rampant. Flannel-covered arms wrapped around Mandy in yet another tight hug. Lydia snuggled up to her friend's side on the couch, contented and feeling extra affectionate. "I'm just happy you're back home. I was worried about you." Mandy smiled and returned the gesture. "This is the best I've felt all day, dude. It's good to be back." The blonde pulled back. "I'm fucking tired, though. Been sitting in one of those awful metal fold up chairs all day. My back's killing me. I'm gonna go take a nice long hot bath and then sleep until I can't sleep anymore. Hopefully Nona or one of the other girls will be willing to take my shift again tomorrow. I'm really not up to dancing right now."

Lydia remembered her spat with Nona, frowning. "I'm sure she will. You know she's a bit of a workaholic. I'll see you tomorrow, hon. I'll try to keep quiet in the morning until you wake up. Might just sleep as long as you, though. It's been a fucking day."

Mandy bade them both goodnight and retreated to her room. Soon, the muted rush of running water filled the apartment. Lydia yawned wide, stretching her arms out. "Aww, look at you. All tuckered out. Need me ta read ya a story?" His wife stood, ignoring his teasing remarks, and stumbled towards her bedroom. "No thanks. You'd probably give me nightmares." He grinned darkly, floating behind her. "I don't think you could dream up anything scarier than me, baby." She raised an eyebrow at him over her shoulder, pulling her covers back before collapsing into bed. "You underestimate my imagination, poltergeist. You're not nearly as scary as you think you are, ya know." He was insulted.

_'Challenge accepted.'_

"I'm not scary, huh? Whatcha think about this?" His face twisted and contorted; maggots, roaches, spiders, night crawlers of all sorts started falling out of his ears, mouth, nose, and eye sockets. They ate their way through his ashen skin to hiss and crawl over each other, dropping soundlessly onto the floor in their vigor. Lydia crawled languidly to the edge of the bed and dipped her hand down to to the ground, letting an especially large black spider crawl up into her palm. She yawned again as she rose to her knees, covering her mouth with her free palm. "Oh yeah. Terrifying. I just might faint. Hello, beautiful..." She cooed to the arachnid, making kissy faces. Betelgeuse had never been more turned on in his life. That particular apparition had never before failed him. Burying his cock deep in a seasoned undead whore's icy cunt simply couldn't compare to his living bride's cool indifference. His illusion disappeared in an instant, including the spider she'd been fussing over. "Hey! I liked that-"

He was on her like lice on orphans, her wrists trapped in his, nose buried in her neck where the flannel covered his hickey. He inhaled her sweet scent greedily. "Do you have _any fucking idea_ how beautiful you are? _God fucking damn_." He transferred her wrists to one hand, the other slipping up her flannel to flatten against her abdomen. Lydia gasped sharply, giggling at the touch. "Y-you're _so cold_! You're tickling me!" He grinned against her neck, taking that as an invitation. Cold fingers danced mercilessly along her ribs, savoring the sensation of her warm little body convulsing in laughter against his. "Stop! N-no! MERCY!"

"No mercy, you say? Of course! Whatever my baby wants." His efforts were doubled. Her legs on either side of his hips punted at his back desperately. She twisted and squirmed pleasantly beneath him as he tortured her relentlessly. "Please!" She gasped, red-faced, trying her damnedest to buck him off. He was impossibly solid above her. "Please, what?" She squealed, little tear drops gathering in the corner of her eyes, as he concentrated on a particularly sensitive spot. "STOP!" He allowed himself to extract one more enticing yelp out of her before sighing deeply and rolling off to the side. Lydia's arms remained above her head and she panted like a dog. "I thought... That you... Couldn't touch me... If I didn't want you to..."

Betelgeuse grinned, turning onto his side to drink her in, all rosy cheeked and breathy. If she were naked she would have looked freshly fucked. "That's right. I can't. Hmm... Wonder what that means?" Lydia sat up abruptly, launching herself to the other side of the bed, standing, at the insinuation. "You can't possibly think- I mean- you don't- I already told you, _I don't like you_!" It was his turn to cackle. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, babe. Speaking of, I think we've had enough fun for today." He disappeared and reappeared behind her in an instant, hands on her hips and cold lips brushing her ear. "You need to get your beauty rest. Why don't you just sleep on that whole 'not liking me' thing? An eternity is an awfully long time to spend with someone you don't like. I'll be in the living room if you need me." She turned briskly in his arms, ready to give him a mouthful, but he was already gone. "Hmph!" Her bare foot stomped the floor in frustration. She'd be damned if she gave him the satisfaction of following him out there _._

_'Bastard.'_

Lydia double-checked that the window and door were locked, shut off all of the lights, and snuggled up into bed, cheeks still flushed. Sleep quickly took her, though. THC, half a bottle of wine, and the trying events of the day had left her limbs heavy and her mind clouded. That night, she dreamt of beetles.


	14. Chapter 14

Lydia awoke with a start. The sun was just beginning to rise. She had dreamt of her childhood in New York and the dilapidated flat she shared with her mother and Gregg. Her mother was beautiful and had lots of boyfriends, but Gregg came around more often than the others. The place had all of the amenities necessary to live, but not comfortably so. The water occasionally ran brown. It was too hot during the Summers and too cold during the Winters. The walls and ceilings had cracks in them, and when it rained water would sneak its way through, trickling. Lydia remembered getting lice often and being teased mercilessly for it, among other things, by the other children at school. The place had also been infested with roaches. That didn't bother Lydia nearly as much as it did her mother. The roaches didn't fear her the way that everyone else seemed to. There was only one bedroom and Lydia's mother was kind enough to give it to her little girl. Mama slept on the beat-up couch in the living room on nights when she was home. Lydia'd had no window to look out of at night. Just cracks in the wall.

In her dream, the roaches were replaced with beetles of all kinds; ladybugs, scarabs, stags, weevils, fireflies, etc. They crawled over her bare hands and feet, lovingly. Lightning bugs danced in a hypnotic rhythm through the air, illuminating her depressing little room and turning it into an ethereal palace. She wasn't a little girl. She was as she is now, grown and sure of herself. Gregg sat next to her on her bed. When Gregg opened his mouth to speak to her, his words were garbled. Large, shining black beetles climbed up and out of his throat, taking bites out of him all the way. He seemed unconcerned. They flew this way and that as he spoke, his teeth crunching down on them sickeningly as he attempted speech. Insect guts stained his teeth and lips.

Gregg went to place a clammy hand on her knee and was thrust back violently. So violently, in fact, that he was thrown against the wall on the opposite end of the tiny room, causing a deep crack to fracture even further. It was as though there was an invisible force field around her that only the beetles could penetrate. Suddenly, her husband was there, smoking a cigarette as if he'd always been there. Betelgeuse leaned against the wall Gregg was thrown against and laughed boisterously _. "Get a load of this guy."_

And then Lydia woke up. The birds were just starting to wake up, too, and they chirped merrily outside of her window. It gave her a headache. The opening theme from _The Walking Dead_ played quietly in the living room. Her digital clock flashed ' _7:13_ ' in bright neon green. "Ugh..." She turned over and placed a pillow over her head to block out the dim blue light peeking through her curtains. But the birds' singing was too loud, and the thought of coffee and a morning cigarette too enticing to allow sleep to return to her. Not to mention the residual uneasiness left behind from her odd dream. So she slid from her covers, stretched, threw on some slippers, and joined her husband in the living room.

"Morning." He jumped at her entrance and she smirked, pleased to have surprised him for once. Betelgeuse was irked that she'd managed to sneak up on him while he was engrossed in the show. He hadn't expected her to be up for hours. She'd seemed so tired last night. It was why he'd decided to show her mercy and not fuck around further. "You look like you're enjoying yourself. Love it yet?" He'd never admit to her that he was now thoroughly invested in the characters' stories. He had an image to maintain, after all. Betelgeuse leaned back in the recliner from where he'd been sitting on the edge of his seat and inspected his nails nonchalantly, as though he hadn't just been hanging on Rick Grimes' every word. "S'alright. Too many emotional speeches, not enough carnage." Lydia just scoffed and started preparing a pot of coffee, seeing right through his facade. "Hey, whatever helps you sleep at night." He scowled as she echoed his own words back to him.

Once the machine started gurgling Lydia, satisfied, stepped out onto the patio for her first taste of nicotine of the day. She left the French doors open, knowing that he'd follow her. He didn't disappoint. It wasn't lost on her that he made a point to pause the tv first _. 'Filthy liar.'_

"I want to make breakfast for Mandy this morning. She's probably skipping class today. That means that I need to go to the store. That won't be for hours, though." A pleasant shudder ran down Lydia's spine as the nicotine took effect. He had a cigarette of his own and was regarding her with narrowed eyes.

"You and your friends are a bunch of freaks, ya know that?"

Lydia flinched, mildly hurt. "You're one to talk."

"I mean that in the nicest possible way, honey bun. Freaks are the best. Now normies, those are the ones you gotta look out for. Freaks wear their hearts on their sleeves. No surprises there. Ordinary people, they'll stab ya in the back with a smile on their face. Got nothin' better to do with their time. They're empty on the inside." His butt was flicked over the balcony, fading away to nothing before it had a chance to hit the concrete below.

"What's your point?" She was nearly done with her own.

" _My point_ is that I'm glad. If your friends were a bunch of losers I might have to kill myself. Again." He had her attention again. It was an annoying habit of his.

"You killed yourself?" There was just a hint of concern in the question. She was done with her cigarette. He went back inside, and it was her who was following him this time. Lydia set about making them both cups of coffee.

"Yep. Was gonna die anyway. People were droppin' like flies. Figured I'd beat Lady Death to the punch. Jokes on me. Probably would'a been better off if I just let the plague take me, but who knows? Wouldn't be playin' house with you right now if I had." A cup was passed to him. He drank it down, in the same manner he had the first time she'd made him coffee. It was perfect, again.

"The black plague?" Her pretty eyes were large with morbid curiosity. She was facing him, sat on the couch with her knees pressed up against her chest, chewing absent-mindedly on her thumb. "Barbara said that you'd said something about living through it. Couldn't tell if you were joking or not."

Betelgeuse paced as he talked. "Yeah, the black plague. And it was a bitch. Nobody bothered with funerals anymore. Bodies were piled in ditches and in the streets and burned nightly. You couldn't go anywhere without smelling barbecued human flesh with a side of infection. Trust me when I tell you that infection has a smell, and it is rank." His coffee was finished off in a second gulp. The cup was promptly juiced to the sink.

"You know it's the church's fault that the black death got as bad as it did." Now it was her who had his attention. He stopped pacing abruptly and his brows furrowed. "What're ya talkin' about?" Lydia set down her cup and set about packing her bong. Everything still sat on the coffee table from their late night binge.

"Well, at the time, as I'm sure you already know, 'witches' were being hunted at an unprecedented rate. There were more people burned and hung in that time period than ever have been before or afterward. I'm sure you also are aware that the plague was spread by fleas on rats from foreign ships." He was, of course. "The European rat population was out of control, and nobody could figure out why."

Lydia took a hit. "It was the cats." She spoke, still holding in smoke, before releasing it and leaning back into the couch. "They were killing all the cats. 'Witches' familiars.' It's beautifully ironic, I think. They kill all those innocent people and animals and it comes back to bite them in the ass tenfold. That's why you don't fuck with nature." He was in shock. Why had that never occurred to him before?

 _"Fuck!"_ She was taken aback by his outburst. "I'm sorry!" She blurted out without exactly knowing why. He waved her off, running a hand through his hair. "No, no, not you. I'm just remembering shit." Images were flashing through his brain. He concentrated hard and grabbed onto one, holding it tight; _his hands wrapped around a furry throat, holding something underwater until the bubbles stopped_. "I did that. I killed cats. It was fuckin' sport back then. I feel like a fuckin' idiot." She looked more horrified now than she had when she'd discovered it was him who'd killed Todd.

"You... you killed _cats_?" She looked like he'd just told her Christmas was canceled. Her bottom lip trembled just the tiniest bit and she sunk in on herself, dejected. There it was again. Guilt. He quickly dropped to his knees before her, hands squeezing her flannel covered knees. "Aww, don't be upset. I'm sorry. Ya gotta understand, it was a different time. Everybody did it." His voice was genuine, eyes pleading.

"I know... it's just... they're so sweet and precious and innocent..." She looked like she might cry.

"Fuck, babes, c'mon. It was hundreds of years ago." This is what he gets for falling for an infallible angel. She'd be here forever to make him feel bad for every shitty thing he ever did, and it was all his own doing. Beautifully ironic is fuckin' right. "What if I told you there was a kitty afterlife full of yarn and fresh cream and fish and everything a kitty cat could possibly want?"

"Is there?" Her eyes were big and hopeful.

"I mean... maybe?" Tears balanced precariously on the edge of her bottom lids. His heart, which had remained gloriously quiet and content for the past 600 years, lurched painfully in his chest.

"Argh! Damn it! Wait here!" And then he was gone. Lydia knew that she was being silly. But the thought of him killing something truly innocent broke her heart. She had no illusions about him. He was the bad guy. Still, she hadn't thought he was _that_ bad. She didn't have to wait long for him to come back. He popped back into existence, standing in front of her, and dug around in his pocket, searching. After a moment, he pulled out something small and fluffy and dropped it into her lap.

"There. Came from the shelter down the street. Beyonce and I passed it yesterday. This one was on the kill floor. Am I forgiven now? Life for a life n' all that shit?"

The creature was no bigger than her coffee mug and all black, even the pads of its feet and its little nose. Lydia sucked in a breath and held it, gently cupping the furball and lifting it to her chest to cradle. It meowed a squeaky little meow. "Oh!" It had curious viridian eyes, the only color on its little body. It was a girl. "She's perfect! I love her! Thank you! Yes, yes I forgive you. I mean, I wasn't mad, but yeah I... Yeah..." Lydia trailed off, too enamored to be bothered to finish her sentence.

He knew better than to point out to her that this changed nothing, and he'd definitely killed more than just one cat in his living days. This seemed to make her happy, and that was good enough. "Happy birthday, babes."

She barely heard him, too busy fussing over her new pet. "Yes, you're just perfect, aren't you? How could no one want you, angel? You're gonna be my baby, now. Let's make you a bed!" She was up and moving around now, kitten cradled to her chest with one hand. Lydia flitted from one room to the next, gathering materials. A cardboard box from the hallway closet, a newspaper from a kitchen drawer, a pillow from her own bed, the plush blanket he'd conjured for her their first night together- he noted with annoyance. That was for _her_ , not the pest. He was suddenly nonexistent to her and beyond irked to find himself jealous of a fucking cat.

_'Shoulda let it go to the gas chamber.'_

Lydia layered newspaper at the bottom of the large box, wrapped the blanket around her pillow to create a plush kitty throne, and placed that in the box too. It took up half the space. Lastly, the kitten was placed gently on the throne. The only way you could tell it was there were its big eyes staring up at you. It meowed loudly, upset by the sudden lack of warmth. "I know baby," she cooed to the vermin, "but mommy has to go get supplies for you." This meant they'd be going to the store earlier than anticipated.

"Do you wanna go with me or stay here?" If he stayed, he was liable to drown the thing. "Sure, why not. It's gettin' a little crowded in here." He gave the kitten the stink eye. It stared back and meowed _. 'Smug little shit.'_ Lydia took no notice. She retreated to her room, returning moments later in a deep purple halter top sundress, her favorite boots, and a leather jacket. Her hair was in a high ponytail. A purse was thrown over her shoulder and she threw him a dazzling smile that would have taken his breath away had he had any. His disdain for the animal dissipated slightly. If this was the payment he'd receive every time he brought her a glorified rat, he'd deliver thousands of kittens to her arms.

"Let's go!"


	15. Chapter 15

"Why are you still here?" The question was abrupt and nonsequitur. The two had spent the last hour and a half walking the aisles of a deserted local Wal-Mart. It appeared the collegiate population of Autumn Woods spent their Sunday mornings nursing hangovers, not shopping for groceries. Lydia was willing, for the moment, to forget his transgressions in favor of an amicable morning. The man had just given her a kitten; she couldn't very well jump down his throat about Josh and Noah now. Still, she was curious.

"What d'ya mean?" He physically helped her load up her trunk with groceries. His magic could've taken care of it in less than a second, but Betelgeuse's masculine pride demanded he demonstrate his physical prowess by lifting plastic bags of fucking groceries. He gathered up the heavier ones- orange juice and milk jugs, canned goods, cat food, et cetera- before she had a chance to. He was hopeless.

"I mean," Lydia began, shutting the trunk once everything was loaded, "why aren't you, I dunno, off haunting some sorority or hanging out in the local bars? I've had a lot of time to think about this and I never thought you'd actually stick around once you got out. I know you can't go too far from me, but still." She lit a cigarette and leaned against her car in the barren parking lot. He'd already explained to her the deal with being invisible to other people, so she hadn't bothered asking him to make himself appear more normal.

"Why should I? I've got a cozy little setup with you and your friends. Hot wife makin' me coffee in the morning-"

"Careful." She interrupted, dragging her cigarette and lifting a peeved eyebrow. "That's a privilege, not a right. I do it because I'm polite, not because we're married."

He continued as if he hadn't heard her, "-surrounded by beautiful women who know how ta party. Life is fuckin' sweet. The fact that you three seem to attract trouble like flies to honey is just a bonus, baby doll."

His admission left her unsettled. She'd unwittingly provided him with exactly the environment he needed to sate his eccentric proclivities. "I've also gotta make sure you don't go gettin' yourself killed. Death is so random. Can't have you dyin' on me. So you might as well just get used to me, babe. I ain't goin' anywhere."

Taking her seat on the driver's side, Lydia laughed sarcastically and rolled down the window. "I don't see that ever happening. Getting used to you, I mean. But who knows? I got used to the Maitlands pretty quickly."

He grimaced as if she'd just said something particularly filthy. " _C'mon_! Don't compare me to _them_! They couldn't scare a horse with PTSD. I'm better than _that_."

Lydia laughed in earnest this time, pulling the car out of the parking lot. "Oh, cut them some slack. They're nice people. Some ghosts just aren't made for scaring. The ability to instill fear in others is a gift you're born with, not something that can be taught. I can't be the only person you've failed to scare. I'm sure you had a few blunders in your earlier haunts, right?"

Betelgeuse flicked his butt out of the window and leaned his seat back so far that he was practically lying flat. His seatbelt was left unbuckled. "Nope." He folded his arms behind his head and closed his eyes, enjoying the breeze coming through the windows. It still smelled like rain outside. "I'm the 'ghost with the most' for a reason, babe. I always hit the mark. You're the first in six-hundred years to be immune to my... heh, charms. Don't you feel special?"

Lydia scoffed. "Oh, yeah. So special. Lucky, lucky me."

The rest of the short trip was spent in easy silence, Betelgeuse whistling an unfamiliar tune and Lydia ignoring the urge to chastise him for not wearing a seatbelt. When they arrived back at her apartment he once again made a show of hauling all of the bags up to her floor. Lydia might have been impressed if she didn't think it would give him too much satisfaction. When they stepped through the door, Mandy was already awake and bent over the kitten's box. She looked much better now that she'd had a good night's rest. The shadows under her eyes were gone and her hair was brushed and wavy. She wore gray sweat shorts and a yellow sports bra.

" _Lydia_! Somebody left a _baby_ here!" Her voice was high pitched and full of adoration. The fuzz ball was lifted up to her face so that it could be properly nuzzled.

"I know. She's ours." Lydia set the groceries down and joined Mandy fussing over the kitten. "His almighty spookiness played white knight this morning and saved her from that kill shelter down the street." Lydia threw said white knight a teasing smirk and he couldn't bring himself to be annoyed. "We get to keep her?! I'm in love! Who's a pretty girl? Who's a pretty? You are!" The kitten mewed.

Lydia and Mandy both loved animals. The only reason they hadn't already gotten a cat is that their lease specifically forbade pets of any kind. The kitten was already here, though, and neither of them was about to throw it out onto the streets.

"I'm annoyed that you're already up. I was gonna surprise you with breakfast in bed." Mandy passed the struggling kitten to Lydia- who placated it and set about placing a dark forest-green collar around its neck- and investigated the groceries. She smiled sweetly, placing a hand over her heart, and lifted a bottle of Louisiana hot sauce out of a bag. " _Oh, Lydia_. B," she regarded the poltergeist who'd been putting away groceries. "Can ya'll just get a divorce already so she and I can make this thing official? I wanna put a ring on this bitch."

He glared over his shoulder at her, in response to both the nickname and her remark. "First of all, ' _B_ '? _Really_? Second of all, that's just too fuckin' bad, Wonder Woman. That right there's my woman. You've just been borrowing her."

Lydia laughed from her spot on the floor. She'd been setting up everything the kitten needed; litter box, bed, food and water bowls. "I dunno, _B_ ," The nickname was somehow less offensive when it slid so sweetly from his wife's lips. "Mandy and I have been in the midst of a passionate love affair for years. If anything, she has more of a claim to me than you do." Mandy cackled and slapped Lydia's ass hard as she moved to the hallway closet to place the litter box next to the water heater. Lydia just flashed a devious grin over her shoulder.

They were evil. They knew exactly what they were doing and it wasn't fair. Images of pale and sun-kissed skin, dark hair and light hair, tumbling together, sweating and flushed, in a tangle of sheets flashed through his mind against his will. He'd already been fantasizing about his wife and her pretty friends, late at night when he was sure they were asleep, but here they were flaunting themselves in front of him and he couldn't do shit but stand there like an idiot and help them put away groceries. Of course, Lydia was the focus of his lustful attentions, but he wasn't _blind_. He could see that her friends were extremely attractive and that they all loved each other deeply. He was living in a sick, twisted chick-flic and it was fucking hot.

"Don't get me wrong, your friends can borrow you all they want, _all night long_." Betelgeuse licked his lips as a particularly salacious fantasy came to mind. "But at the end of the end of the day, you're mine."

* * *

The rest of the morning was spent cooking and listening to music. Lydia went all out; sausage gravy and biscuits, bacon, and mushroom and bell pepper omelets. Betelgeuse already knew that she was a masterful chef. Her parents left her alone enough as a kid, and take-out occasionally lost its appeal. He'd spent many hours in the Maitlands' attic greedily inhaling the scent of her cooking. He probably ate twice as much as them, shoveling food into his mouth like a man starved. Like sleep and oxygen, he didn't need it, but it tasted good all the same.

"Slow down!" Lydia's eyes bugged, "You'll choke!"

He took a particularly vicious bite out of a strip of bacon. "Yep. I'll choke. And die. Right here on your kitchen floor."

Lydia flushed and screwed up her face. "Shut up." It was easy to forget that he was dead. He was so _lively_. She was sitting next to him at the bar, nibbling a gravy soaked biscuit. Mandy had already finished eating and was lying flat on the floor rubbing her stomach and playing with the kitten. "What should we name her?" Lydia pushed away her plate, appetite sated, and joined Mandy on the floor. "I dunno… I was thinking maybe Artemis? Or Luna? She looks like a moon-kitty."

Betelgeuse snorted, "How about road-kill?" He spoke through a mouth of half-chewed food. The girls on the floor took a beat to glare at him simultaneously, and then returned to their discussion. "I like Luna." Mandy lifted the thing a few inches above her face with both hands. "Are you a Luna? Do you like that, precious?" The kitten mewed.

Lydia's lips curled with infatuation. "That's that, then. Luna Deetz-Black. Kind of a mouth full."

Mandy turned onto her side to mirror Lydia, the kitten in between them. "Hey, Lydia… Can we go talk in my room for a minute?... Privately?" She shot the poltergeist a look over her friend's shoulder. Lydia followed suit.

"Secrets don't make friends, blondie." Mandy spit her tongue out at him and grabbed Lydia's hand, without waiting for an answer, dragging the girl into her bedroom. Mandy's room was messy. Clothes littered the floor and her desk was cluttered with crumpled papers and empty water bottles. Once the door was shut, Mandy turned on her, pointing a finger at Lydia's neck. "You have some explaining to do."

Lydia slapped a hand over the dark purple mark, eyes going wide. She'd forgotten to cover it up with concealer. "That's a pretty serious hickey, Lydia. And don't think I didn't hear you laughing your ass off last night. These walls are thin." Lydia flushed crimson, her mouth agape. She'd thought Mandy hadn't been able to hear her over the rushing bath water. "I'm on to you, sister. You like him, don't you?"

Lydia's mouth opened and closed several times, like a fish out of water. "I-I don't know what you're talking about."

"Really, Lydia?" Mandy pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow, hands on her hips. "Denial? This isn't high school." Lydia sat down on the blonde's bed, hands in her lap.

"I don't know, Mandy. He shouldn't be able to touch me, but he can. And I… I guess it's because I'm letting him. I really just don't fucking know." Mandy smirked and sat down next to her, throwing a comforting arm over her shoulders.

"You know, you're allowed to like your husband, gross pervert that he is. And maybe that's not such a bad thing." Lydia flipped her long hair back, rolling her head until she was staring at the ceiling. "How is it 'not a bad thing'? It's terrible. It's the worst thing. He's a bad person."

Mandy sprawled out on her bed and rested her head in her hands. "I don't think it's all that bad. You could definitely do worse." Lydia glared in response and Mandy laughed, hitting her with a pillow. "You know what I mean! I'm just sayin', ya'll vibe. There's some seriously unbearable sexual tension haunting this apartment. If somebody likes you, and you like them, and you're stuck with each other for the rest of fucking eternity… Why the fuck not? I bet he's wild in the sack." It was Lydia hitting Mandy with a pillow now.

"You _know_ why not," Lydia spoke after she was done pelting Mandy, wrapping her arms around herself and looking at her feet. Mandy sat up, serious again. "I know why not with every other guy you've ever met. But, Lydia… I want you to be able to enjoy sex." Men didn't just avoid Lydia. Lydia avoided men. When members of the opposite sex came too close, she'd shut down. Anxiety would pool in her stomach, it became hard to breathe, and her hands would sweat profusely. This wasn't the case with her husband, Mandy had noticed. Even when she was angry with him, she seemed at ease with his presence, trusting.

"Sex is beautiful when it's done right. It really is. It's a God damned tragedy that that fuck-head junkie shit stole that beauty from you. But, something tells me that Betelgeuse would really take care of you."

Lydia laid down and let Mandy spoon her. "… I do like him…" She spoke quietly while Mandy stroked her hair. The blonde nodded. "I know."

"My parents would disown me."

Mandy laughed at her pitiful tone. "Hey, they'll only be around for maybe another thirty or forty years. Your husband is _forever_. Besides, you're a Daddy's girl. Your father would love you no matter what you did."

"Maybe." They laid there like that for a while, allowing their food to digest, and enjoyed the early morning silence. No sounds could be heard from the other side of the door.

"It's too quiet." Lydia sat up and threw her legs back over the edge of the bed. When they emerged from the bedroom, all of the mess from breakfast had been cleaned up and her husband was floating out on the balcony enjoying a cigarette.

Mandy took this time to call Nona and ask about covering her shift. Lydia joined Betelgeuse on the balcony, closing the doors behind her. He looked pissed.

"Thanks for cleaning up the kitchen." He waved her off, still scowling. "Yeah, yeah no problem." She lit a cigarette and puffed, frowning. "Are you mad at me? I'm sorry about that stuff with Mandy. We were just teasing you."

"I'm not mad at cha." He'd eavesdropped on their conversation, unable to stop himself. It was too easy. Like Mandy said, the walls were thin. He'd heard every word, even the whispered ones. At first, he was ecstatic. The blonde was quickly taking Nona's place as his favorite of her friends. While Nona appealed to his murderous side, Mandy was doing her part to get him laid. But then she'd said some vague shit about sex and some junkie stealing beauty from his wife, and his gut had clenched at the implications. "Tell me about your mom."

Lydia froze. "Why?" She responded finally, after a long moment.

"Theory about why you can see the dead. Nothin really." He lied. He was already one-hundred percent certain that he knew why she could see stiffs, but he couldn't reveal that he'd been eavesdropping. The tenuous trust they'd managed to build would fracture.

"She's in jail. It's a long, ugly story and I really don't want to talk about it." Her tone was final. There'd be no budging her on this. "Why are you so pissed off?"

He had to come up with a cover. Luckily, he'd had six-hundred years to perfect his lying abilities. "Stupid show you've got me watching. Dumb blonde bitch should listen to the samurai chick and get the fuck out of there." There, that was convincing enough.

Lydia's uneasy countenance melted away and she laughed out loud at him. A small pale hand reached up to grab his from where he was floating a couple feet above her. He smiled gingerly in her direction, flicking away his butt. "C'mon, let's finish up the rest of this season. It only gets better, I promise." He allowed her to drag him back inside and said nothing when she snuggled up next to him on the couch.

* * *

The rest of the day passed with ease. Nona had been happy to take Mandy's shift, so the blonde spent the rest of her day with them, getting stoned and throwing light-hearted insults around. His confusing agitation with the blonde's closeness with Lydia had faded since he'd learned that she not only approved of him but was actively encouraging Lydia to give in to his advances. She was pointedly silent when Lydia curled up at his side on the couch, head tucked under his arm. His wife clocked out just as the sun was beginning to set. Pale legs were splayed over his lap and his arm was wrapped around her back. Mandy hit the bong and then smiled at the sight.

"Told ya," Betelgeuse exclaimed quietly, pulling Lydia just the tiniest bit closer. "End of the day, she's mine."

The room filled with smoke and the scent of marijuana as Mandy exhaled. "She's never been so comfortable around a man before." Luna slept peacefully in her lap and the girl scratched behind its ears. "You're lucky."

"I listened in on your conversation earlier." He confessed unexpectedly, eyes still on the television. He paused it before continuing, carefully peeling the remote from Lydia's sleeping grasp. Mandy scowled. "I should've known. So? Am I wrong? Am I giving her bad advice?"

"No. Thanks for playing wingman for me, 'preciate it. I've got some questions for you, though." His tone was uncharacteristically serious, and Mandy leaned forward, raising an imploring eyebrow.

His next words were full of all of the pent up rage he'd been bottling up since overhearing the two girls. They were hissed out quietly, but Mandy could see that the hand that wasn't holding up Lydia was shaking with fury.

"Why isn't Lydia comfortable around men? What did some ' _junkie fuck-head'_ do to her?"


	16. Chapter 16

Mandy chose her next words carefully. "I don't think that that's any of your business." His hands briefly tightened on the sleeping girl in his arms. They slackened immediately when Lydia shifted in discomfort, frowning. "She _is_ my business." He stood, careful not to jostle Lydia, and floated to her room, leaving Mandy behind to gather her thoughts. Lydia's warm, even breath against his neck calmed his inner torrent, but only just so. With a nod and a wink she was stripped of her sundress, dressed in comfortable pajamas, and tucked tightly into bed. She just continued her peaceful slumber, blissfully unaware. Betelgeuse allowed himself the pleasure of brushing his cold lips across her forehead before leaving her to sleep. His sleeping bride took no notice. The door was closed gently behind him.

Mandy eyed him warily when he returned. "I can't just spill Lydia's deepest darkest secrets to you. I'd be betraying her. If she hasn't told you, it's because she doesn't trust you enough, yet."

"I'm not a _fucking idiot_. I can read between the lines. Somebody raped her. I just want to know who, so tell me _fucking who_. The way I see it, you owe me." Now that his delicate bride was sleeping peacefully behind closed doors, he allowed his rage to come through. Mandy sunk into her chair at the weight of his words, holding Luna closer. "It's not that simple. You don't know what you're talking about. He's probably already dead, anyway."

Betelgeuse smiled a sick smile and stood in front of the chair where Mandy cowered. She wasn't afraid of him, per se, but she wasn't an idiot either. She knew what he was capable of. The mental image of three bloody fingernails plagued her as she drank in his furious aura.

"Even better. Make him nice n' easy to find. Give me a fuckin' name, blondie."

"I _can't_. I don't even know his name. All I know is that he was one of her mom's boyfriends. I don't have any more to tell you. I wouldn't even if I did. I already feel like shit for saying anything at all." Mandy stood from her seat; kitten clutched to her chest and met his height inch for inch. His rage frightened her, but she wasn't one to be bullied. "You need to calm your shit. You think Lydia's going to open up to you if you turn into a raging maniac every time something shitty happens?"

"I don't care. _She's mine_. No one gets to fuck with her and just get away with it."

Mandy sneered, disgusted. Her grip unconsciously tightened around Luna and the kitten meowed loudly in protest. Luna was subsequently released. " _You don't care_? You don't care if she _trusts_ you or not? Maybe I was wrong about you." She turned to go to her bedroom but exploded when he grabbed her arm roughly to turn her back. "Wait!"

" _What_? You know, there are more important things in the world than pride! Than feeling like a big strong man!" Mandy was seething, gritting her words out in much the same manner he had just seconds before. "You could go hunt down fuckhead and torture him. Take out your frustrations; maybe feel a little bit better about yourself. But you know what? At the end of the day, that doesn't fix anything but you and your feelings. Lydia will still shirk away from men. She'll still lock all the doors and windows at night religiously. She'll still have been molested."

The blonde's impassioned speech stabbed him like a knife in the gut. "Molested" was not a term that was used for grown women. He'd been laboring under the delusion that whatever had happened to Lydia happened during their marriage, while she was big enough to put up a fight. "Molested" was a term that was used for children. His imagination fed him a picture of a dark-haired little girl with big innocent eyes, a little Lydia. The knife twisted excruciatingly deeper. Betelgeuse knew that Mandy was absolutely one-hundred percent fucking right. His bloodlust festered regardless.

"I just- _fuck_!" His hand released her arm and slapped the wall next to him. "I do care! I just fuckin' talk without thinkin' sometimes. Just- _fuck_! - just don't- please don't think that I don't care about her."

Mandy's countenance softened at his uncharacteristically genuine plea. "I know you do. I wouldn't have said those things to her if I didn't think you did. Just tone down the bullshit macho act. This isn't about you." Her hand grabbed his gently, the one that was plastered against the wall. His fist unclenched to allow her warm fingers to weave through his. "I really am grateful. For Todd, ya know." They shared a meaningful stare.

"I killed my Dad. I would've killed those boys if I thought I could get away with it. If I knew where the piece of shit that molested her was, I'd probably try and kill him, too. I'm a killer, Betelgeuse." This shocked him. Mandy was all sunshine, butterflies, and smiles. Just didn't strike him as the type. Now, Nona, he could see her putting a few bodies in the ground.

"Lydia's not like us. She sees value in all life, from insignificant little bugs all the way to despicable rapist scum. I don't know why or understand it. That's just who she is." Betelgeuse's hand was released so that Mandy could run hers through her hair. "If you care about her, which I really hope that you do because the idea of her living for an eternity without experiencing love _breaks my fucking heart_ , then you'll let her tell you about her shit on her own time." The blonde unexpectedly wrapped her arms around his neck in a forgiving embrace. He relented, letting an arm slip around her waist to return the embrace. When she pulled back his arm dropped limply to his side.

"I will." He was quiet, humbled. Mandy was able to see the situation from both sides of the coin; the victim and the killer. Her insight was wise, and exactly what he needed to hear. The poltergeist had a penchant for fucking things up just when things were starting to look good for him. Their dialogue just might have saved him from making a huge mistake with Lydia. "You're right."

Mandy just smiled a sad smile. "I know. I usually am. It's one of my more infuriating traits. I'll see you in the morning." With that, he was left alone to haunt their apartment yet again.

* * *

For Betelgeuse, the rest of the night was spent chain-smoking on the patio, _The Walking Dead_ forgotten on perpetual pause. Everything made sense now. Why she'd been so lonely and guarded when he first discovered her in the Maitlands' attic. Why she'd never been with any other men. Why she told him to stop every time he got too close to breaking through her impenetrable walls. He felt fucking sick. After Mandy had departed for bed, the contents of his breakfast were expelled over the edge of the balcony. The food he hadn't really needed had churned unpleasantly in his gut all day, and his conversation with Mandy was the catalyst it needed to find an excuse to leave his body. It really was a shame. It had been delicious going down. Not so much coming up.

He'd smoked so much throughout the night that he'd eventually relented and used the basin instead of flicking it over the edge, not wishing for the girls to get a complaint. _'Got enough shit to deal with without tossing petty neighbors into the mix.'_

All of his negative emotions faded away, however, when around eight in the morning Lydia stepped out onto the balcony. She was hauntingly lovely in a simple flowing black dress that hung off of her shoulders and stopped a few inches above her knees. The sleeves were long, covering her hands. She had a beautiful smile on her face and a cup of coffee in each hand. "Good morning! Sorry, I passed out on you. I must've been more tired than I thought."

"Baby, you can sleep on me anytime you want." An endearing blush stained her cheeks and she narrowed her eyes at him, though her lips betrayed her true emotions and twisted into the tiniest smile. "Stop that."

"Never." He promised, leering at her over the edge of his mug. Jokes were good. Flirting was good. It kept the suffocating madness at bay. She lit a cigarette and leaned against the banister by his side, arm brushing his. This was the routine they'd developed since his arrival; shared coffee and cigarettes on the balcony, light flirtation, and the brisk early morning draft to keep them company.

"I have classes today. Luckily, the campus isn't too far from here so the distance shouldn't cause any problems for you." They could hear shuffling on the other side of the glass. Mandy was waking up. "Mandy's got classes, too, so you're on your own until this afternoon." She tilted her head up and to the side to meet his gaze, a teasing smile gracing her lips. "Can I trust you not to destroy my apartment?"

Betelgeuse grinned crookedly and laced an arm around her waist. "Wouldn't dream of it, sugar. Probably not stickin' around here, anyway. I think it's time I go see the sights, get in on the tourist scene, know what I mean? College towns gotta have somethin' fun to do."

Lydia frowned, concerned. "Please don't cause any trouble."

"I'll be a perfect angel; you won't even know I was gone." His butt was dropped into the basin at their feet and Lydia's frown deepened disbelievingly.

"Promise?"

The arm wrapped around her waist tugged her so that she was facing him. His right hand slid from the small of her back to her hip, its twin following suit. He pulled her closer so that her hips were flush with his. The blush was back. "Can't make a promise like that."

Lydia opened her mouth to argue and his lips stopped her, dropping down with surprising gentleness. There was no aggression in this kiss. It was soft, like a long-deserved apology. Her hands rose to press against his chest, once more neither pushing nor pulling closer. There was no tongue or teeth this time, just his cold, chapped lips on her warm, soft ones. He pulled back before she had a chance to second-guess herself. The kiss had worked on her beautifully. Her expression was dazed, whatever words she'd had for him dying in her throat. He smirked and spun her around, swatting her backside lightly.

"Go on, get to class. Good girls make it to school on time."

Lydia looked over her shoulder at him, besmirched. She attempted to grasp the right words to say, ultimately failing, and then did exactly what he said to do. There was a frustrated air about her. ' _Good girl._ ' Soon, the residence was empty once more. It was time to play the waiting game again.

* * *

Hours later, there was a knock on the door. Betelgeuse had been waiting patiently, floating from room to room in abject boredom. Today was a perfect day for what he had planned. Lydia's distracting presence was gone. She'd be indisposed for hours. Probably wouldn't question it if he was late and she came home to an empty apartment. He opened the door to the sight of Nona dressed up like a porn star; red lips, cat eyes, fuck-me heels, and a cheetah print dress that hugged her generous curves in all the right places. She held up a hand with black-painted nails to halt whatever scathing remark he had for her before it could escape his mouth.

"Are you ready?"

Betelgeuse grinned darkly, leaning against the door frame and looking her up and down unabashedly.

"I was born ready, Beyonce. It's show time."


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains depictions of graphic torture.

"Hey, Noah."

The greeting dripped from Nona's lips sensually. Noah Thomas was dumbfounded to find the untouchable girl leaning against his car when he got out of practice that morning.

"H-hey Nona."

The past few days had been difficult for Noah. His eyes were shadowy and bloodshot from lack of sleep. Nightmares had plagued him every night since Todd's disappearance. They were filled with skeletons and pleas for help from his long-time friend. People had shunned him when he told his side of the story, calling him a drunken liar and all matter of other things. A select few implied that he knew what had actually happened to Todd and was purposefully telling crazy stories. There were whispers amongst his teammates about replacing him as captain.

"What are you…? Can I help you?"

Nona Jackson, notorious stone cold lesbian man-hater, was pressed up against his Benz in one of the tightest dresses he'd ever seen, looking at him like she'd love nothing more than to suck his cock. She flicked back her wild curls and pulled a joint out from behind her ear.

"I was hoping you'd share this with me. All my friends are in class right now and can't keep me company. If I recall correctly you like to _party_. Don't you? "

Noah couldn't believe his luck. This was one for the books.

"Y-yeah! I'd love to! God, it's been awhile since I've seen any of that stuff. Why don't you come back to the frat house with me?"

Nona internally vomited at the suggestion. ' _Not in a thousand years, prick_.' She didn't allow her disgust to break the façade. With a dangerous sway of her hips, she bucked off of his expensive car and sashayed his way, stopping inches before him. She could vaguely make out the outline of an erection beneath his basketball shorts. ' _Gag me with a fucking knife_.'

"I've got a better idea. I know this secluded spot out in the woods not far from campus. Why don't you take a walk with me? I'm really feeling mother nature today."

Today had been meticulously planned. She couldn't be the last one seen with Noah or she'd become a suspect. They couldn't drive off somewhere. The roads had just been updated the previous year with police cameras. The campus was old, however, and as prestigious as the university was they still hadn't moved on to the 21st century. The only security on campus was an old, fat, gray-haired man named Bob who circled the buildings once every eight hours.

Noah jumped at the chance to get her alone like she knew he would. This particular dress had never failed her before. He followed her like a lost puppy through the woods, occasionally attempting to hold her hand, only to be coldly rebuffed. Before too long they reached the clearing she spoke of. Nona leaned against a tree and regarded him coolly, lighting the joint. The temperature dropped around them suddenly and he shivered.

"Mandy used to come to this spot when she wanted to be alone. It's quiet here. She loves to sing. Girl's got a truly terrible voice. No one could hear her caterwauling from here." Noah's blood ran cold at the name. The hair on the back of his neck stood up and goose bumps gathered on his arms and legs. Every instinct in him was telling him to run, to get out of there. They were ignored in favor of the idea of getting stoned with the beautiful woman.

"Not anymore. Too close to the gymnasium, you see. The sight of you made her sick to her fucking stomach."

He opened his mouth to defend himself but found that no sound escaped. He tried, too late, to listen to his initial instincts and run, but his feet were frozen to the ground. A swirl of mist began to gather and solidify next to Nona, who still leaned against the tree toking the joint at her leisure. Once the muddled shape next to Nona was done pulling itself together, he tried once more to scream only for his voice to fail him. It was a monster masquerading as a person! Wild white-blonde hair stuck out in all different directions from its head and its eyes were sunken, surrounded by impossibly black shadows. Mold, or maybe moss, grew up the sides of its neck into its hairline. Its expression was hungry. The corpse cackled loudly at his torment.

"You tryna catch flies, buddy? This the guy?"

Nona tapped her joint, ashing it. "This is him."

She was a witch! She'd trapped him! Dread pooled in his stomach as his feet still refused to lift up from the ground. "Give me a knife." The monster obeyed, handing her a vicious looking switchblade from within its striped suit. Nona passed her monster the joint and slowly approached the frozen boy, savoring his fear.

"What should I cut off?" The question wasn't directed to him. The monster shrugged, inspecting its fingernails as if this was a common inquiry. "Nothin' that bleeds too much. Don't wanna fuck up your dress."

"Right." The witch traced the knife along his cheek, scraping up tears and sweat along the way. "I could gauge out his eye. His shirt would catch most of the blood." The monster joined them, hand stroking his chin, contemplating. "We don't want him to pass out or die too early. Here, let me show ya somethin'." Nona passed the knife back to the monster and it grabbed his hand, inspecting. The knife dug into his pinky, cutting a clean complete circle around its diameter. The pain was excruciating. Noah could feel every precise slice, and yet he was frozen. His body demanded that he yank his hand away, run, scream, _anything_ , but he stood obediently and allowed himself to be mutilated.

"Now you grab here," The monster pinched the flap of skin at the tip of his pinky, "and pull." It yanked. The tip of his pinky was effectively skinned. The small scrap of flesh disappeared as the monster flicked it away. "See? Nice n' painful, minimal mess." Nona nodded approvingly.

"Okay, my turn." The knife was passed to her. She took hold of Noah's mutilated pinky and made a smooth slice downward, adrenaline coursing through her. It was one thing to fantasize about torturing an enemy. It was another thing entirely to actually take part. Two black-painted nails pinched the flap of skin in between the newest cut and pulled. The skin on his hand began to unravel sickeningly. By the time she was done half of the flesh of his palm hung limply, independent from the rest of his hand. The sight of his own exposed muscle accompanied by intense agony made Noah's frozen body want to vomit, but the bile caught in his throat helplessly. Nona grinned sickly and stepped up close to him, so close that he could smell her minty breath as it passed through her crimson lips.

"I want you to know something, Noah, before I let my friend have his fun with you." She pressed her lips against his slick cheek in a kiss. She could practically smell his terror. It was intoxicating. "You deserve this." The words were whispered gently into his ear. She stepped back and took her joint back from the monster. "Okay. He's all yours." Before Nona could take a puff they were gone.

* * *

Betelgeuse took him to the Neitherworld. This particular dark, dingy corner of the afterlife was his favorite spot for exactly this sort of entertainment. He could hear him scream there. Dissecting a dead fish just wasn't as fun as a live, wriggling one. As soon as their feet touched the ground, his illusion dispelled and the boy was screaming bloody murder, clutching his hand desperately as if his other sweaty palm could magically glue the flesh back together. The poltergeist laughed at his attempts, and chains shot up from the ground. They dragged the boy down, flaying him against the cold metal floor. It was so dark. A light bulb hung from the ceiling, but it only served to illuminate him and his tormentor. Any sign of an exit, walls, or a ceiling was absent.

"Please! Please! Please l-let me go! I have m-money! I'll give you anything, please!" Betelgeuse just laughed and circled the vermin. "You guys never get old. Always say the same shit. Let me let you in on a little secret." He crouched down next to Noah's head. "You don't have _shit_ for me. Not money, not drugs, not women. Nothin'. Got that? The only thing I want from you is blood." With a wave of his hand, the boy was completely naked. A warm puddle of piss splashed against the poltergeist's boots as he started circling him again. He stopped next to the boy's ribs before delivering a sharp kick with his wet boot. A couple sickening cracks echoed through the dark room, along with the groans of the damaged creature.

"You like to rape little girls? Heh, I can imagine why. You call that thing a cock? I gotta know, any woman ever laughed at it?" His only answer was muffled sobs.

"No, I'm serious. Answer the fucking question." Betelgeuse's rage grew when the little shit refused and pled for his life some more. The knife from before returned. It scraped menacingly against the boy's package.

"NO! DON'T!"

"Answer the question and I'll think about it."

"YES! Yes yes yes yes…" The answer was sobbed out pathetically. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…"

"Little late for apologies." The knife had not left the vicinity of his genitals yet. "I've had a hell of a fuckin' weekend. You know Lydia Deetz?" The boy hiccupped his answer. "…Yeah… Goth bitch from my math class…" The knife pressed more tightly against his shaft, and he realized too late that he'd made a horrible mistake. Lydia was _Mandy's_ friend.

"Goth WHAT!? I'm sorry; I don't think I heard you. Could you say that again a bit louder for the cheap seats in the back?" A thin trail of blood trickled down off of the end of the boy's penis from where the knife pressed deeper. The sound of it dripping down to mingle with the puddle of piss resonated clearly throughout the torture chamber.

"Goth GIRL! Nice girl! Let me borrow her notes once, not a bitch at all, never!" He rambled desperately. His neck strained as he lifted his head to keep an eye on the hand that threatened his pride and joy.

Betelgeuse clicked his tongue and shook his head. "That's what I thought you said. Anyway, I come home to see my wife, Lydia, you know, for the first time in _five fucking_ _years_ and what do I find? I find her all cozied up in an apartment with a nice blonde girl, goin' ta college, gettin' her degree. I'm proud, really."

The knife dug deeper and Noah hissed. "The only problem she has, as far as I can tell, is that three _slimy tiny-pricked little fucks_ drugged and raped her best friend. My Lydia, she's real empathetic. Takes everybody else's problems and makes them her own. She's sweet like that. Now me," Betelgeuse broke off here, chuckling to himself, "I couldn't give any less of a fuck about other people. Just her. Only her. And you?" The knife began cutting in earnest now. Horrible screams of agony played beautifully in his ears. Blood spurted everywhere, staining his suit and coating his hand. The slick coat of blood on his hand only hindered his efforts slightly.

"You've been givin' my baby trouble."

By the time he was done with Noah his suit was striped red and black.


	18. Chapter 18

The unrecognizable mass of mangled flesh, bone, and blood that was Noah Thomas was sent to Saturn with a wave of his hand. The boy would make some lucky scavenging sandworm a juicy treat. Sandworms usually preferred their dinner live and wriggling, but they'd make an exception for a fresh bloody corpse. Betelgeuse appraised his reflection in a dusty mirror in his Neitherworldian home, frowning. This wouldn't do. Lydia couldn't see him like this. As much as he wanted to scare her, he didn't want to _scare_ her. With a snap of his fingers every last speck of blood and human tissue was removed. _'Good as new.'_

Lydia was home alone when he returned to their humble abode, sitting cross-legged on the couch and typing away at her laptop, surrounded by hand-written notes and open textbooks. Incense and marijuana smoke clouded the air, illuminated by the last rays of the setting sun that beamed through the French doors. He'd reappeared in the kitchen, and she was so engrossed in her work that she'd yet to notice his presence. A slow, sultry version of "Sway" that he'd never heard before was playing quietly through the speakers. She sang aloud with poise and confidence, believing herself to be alone.

" _When marimba rhythms start to play,_

_Dance with me, make me sway,_

_Like the lazy ocean hugs the shore_

_Hold me close, sway me more…"_

This wasn't like the first time he'd heard her sing in the attic. Her voice was wispy and unsure before, but still on key and pretty sounding. Now her song resounded clearly, overshadowing the stereo. There were no stutters or cracks, just a pure chaste tone lilting along beautifully with every rise and fall of the notes. Every time he thought that he couldn't possibly be more attracted to her than he already was, she went and surprised him. He leaned back against the refrigerator and closed his eyes, savoring the sound. Too soon it was over, and he spoke up, alerting her to his presence before the next song had a chance to start playing.

"You should go professional, kid."

She jumped violently causing a textbook in her lap to fall to the floor with a residual _clunk_. "How long have you been there?" Her cheeks blossomed brightly with color, and her eyes were wide, embarrassed to be caught singing so brashly and openly.

"Long enough. I'm serious. Drop the camera, pick up a mic. You're better than most of the shit comin' out nowadays."

Lydia gathered herself, picking up the fallen textbook and resuming her work. She willed her hot cheeks to cool down. "Never. That's not my scene. I'm not like Mandy and Nona. I can't just perform in front of an audience like that. I just- no. That's not me."

"If you say so. Just sayin', ya got talent." In truth, he was glad that she had no desire to pursue a career in the music industry. He could manage to share his mortal with her friends, but a crowd of rowdy drunken buffoons salivating over his wife might just be enough to drive him over the edge. She was _his_ black little songbird. He floated to join her in the living room as she worked, lying on his back in the air.

"Well… Thanks. My mom used to sing to me; Old Russian lullabies. One of the few things I can remember about her." Lydia wasn't sure exactly why she'd said that. She didn't talk about her mother. His unexpected praise must have just knocked her off guard. "What's she locked up for?"

Lydia paused her typing and glanced up at him briefly, before resuming. Her expression was stony, careful and guarded. "Child Neglect, Reckless Endangerment, and Possession with Intent to Sell. She's not getting out for a long time."

Betelgeuse whistled low, carefully schooling his features so that his more ardent emotions didn't show through. She was finally opening up to him. He didn't want to frighten her. "That's some shit. Gotta admit, I can't see chicken-liver Chuck shackin' up with a broad like that."

Lydia let out a grim breath, eyes trained on her computer's screen. "You could hardly call what they had a relationship. I didn't even meet my Dad until I was seven. They were only together for a few weeks before my mom got pregnant. Dad tried to pay her to get an abortion. She refused- raised Catholic. I'm a love-child."

Intense hatred for Charles Deetz coursed through Betelgeuse's veins and he found himself regretting not ending him when he had the chance. But then again, he wouldn't be here now if he had. There's no way Lydia would have so compliantly acquiesced to being his bride if he'd murdered her father.

Lydia shut her laptop and pushed it away. The textbooks and notes around her were stacked neatly and joined the computer. Her work was only partially completed, but she couldn't focus on it and simultaneously hold the conversation at hand. It had been years since she'd talked about her mom. Her grandmother in Moscow would occasionally call her and beg her to go visit the woman, but Lydia refused every time. It was too painful.

"She dropped out of college after I was born. Couldn't handle it. I don't blame her, I was probably a handful. I don't think I'd be able to take being a single mother in school, either. Dad paid child support, but it wasn't enough to get by. New York City is one of the most expensive places in the world to live. Mom loved it, though. Couldn't bear the thought of living anywhere else."

Lydia's ability to look past her mother's shortcomings befuddled him. No fucking wonder she'd forgiven him so easily. She'd forgive _anybody_. He'd met children of abuse before, people who came from broken homes. The Neitherworld was overflowing with head-cases and OD's. These were fucked up people, often drug-addicted and poverty stricken. Lydia had not only risen above that and refused to become another statistic; she'd pardoned the people who wronged her.

His wife sighed and moved to the patio for a cigarette. He joined her, like always. The sun was completely gone now but remnants of its influences over the sky remained. The horizon was a canvas of pinks, oranges, blues and purples. Lydia focused on the vaguely transparent crescent moon, unable to look him in the eye as she recounted her childhood.

"A social worker that the school sent over came to visit one day and found mom passed out on the couch with a needle in her arm. I didn't even know that what she was doing was wrong. I thought all adults did it. You know little kid logic. I didn't understand why they took me away. They brought me to this stranger who claimed to be my father and set me up in what I thought was a fucking mansion at the time. I had everything that a little girl could ever want or need but I hated it. I hated them. _All I wanted_ was to go back to the roach-infested flat and be with my mommy."

She laughed here, shaking her head and biting her lip. "Sorry. You don't need to know my whole fucked up life story. I'm really not interested in throwing a pity party."

He was behind her, one hand resting gently on her hip. He brushed her hair out of the way with his other hand and kissed her neck tenderly. "Shhh." Lydia breathed out slowly and allowed herself to melt into him, head tilting backward to rest on his chest, eyes closing. The hands on her hips wrapped around her middle, pulling her gently so that all of her weight was resting against his solid form. He had no words for her. There was nothing he could say that would magically make everything better. All the dedicated husband could do was be there for his wife.

A silent tear rolled down her cheek and he brushed it away. No more followed. They stayed that way for a long time, silent and wrapped up in one another, watching the sky change colors. Soon it was completely dark, the moon bright and glowing instead of translucent. A spattering of stars illuminated them, though most were obscured by pollution. A shiver that wracked her entire body forced him out of his reverie, and for a moment he lamented that he was one of the dead and would never be able to comfort her with body heat. All he could do was greedily steal her own warmth. "C'mon. Can't have you freezin' to death."

Lydia followed him without a hint of resistance, hand in hand. "Where did you go today?" She almost admitted that she'd been disappointed to come home to an empty apartment, but didn't. It was too much, too soon. She couldn't. In their short time together she'd become accustomed to the icy chill that denoted his presence. Luna clawed her tiny little body up the arm of the couch so that she could make herself a bed out of Lydia's lap, and promptly went straight to sleep. Lydia smiled and scratched the kitten's ears, content.

"Hung out with Nona. By the way, you should give her a call. She's upset about that fight you had." Lydia lifted her gaze from the kitten in her lap to look at him curiously. "What? Really? What did you guys do?" The idea of the two spending leisure time together was strange and not at all what she thought his answer would be.

He smirked darkly, remembering the events of the day with a sick pleasure. All of his pent up rage from learning about the damage done to his young wife had been taken out on the boy. Mandy was right. He did feel better about himself afterward. "You don't wanna know, babe."

Lydia frowned and furrowed her eyebrows. "Well, I know you didn't _fuck_. What could you possibly have done that-" She stopped abruptly, remembering.

* * *

" _You know what?" Lydia interrupted as her eyes welled up with tears, deeply hurt, and blinded by her warring emotions. "Why don't you two," she gestured to Betelgeuse bitterly, "just go off and do whatever you're gonna do and leave me the fuck out of it."_

* * *

He was floating there inspecting his nails- Lydia noticed that this was his go-to move whenever he was trying to look innocent- as if he hadn't a care in the world. "You didn't." Her face drained of color.

"Didn't what? Haven't the foggiest clue what you're talkin' about. Really."

" _What did you do_?" Luna meowed a long anguished meow, sensing her mistress' distress. He shrugged. "Nothin' that didn't need doin'."

Lydia gently pushed Luna off of her lap, standing to confront her husband. "You brought Nona into this!? How could you!?" Lydia was pacing madly now, gnawing her bottom lip and pulling at her hair. "You don't understand! People in this town are out to get us! You're right. We are freaks, and they _know it_. Those boys are powerful and have friends in high places. The people here will find any excuse to throw us under the bus. _Fuck_ , Mandy's already been getting death threats!"

Betelgeuse stopped her pacing with his hands on her shoulders. "You need to calm down. C'mon, you gotta know by now that I wouldn't let anything happen to you, or your friends. Have a little faith. Nona's a big girl. She can take care of herself." It irked him to no end that his little mortal girl had the uncanny ability to inspire these foreign emotions in him; guilt, admiration, tenderness. It was overwhelming. It was a good thing she was able to draw out his darker demons as well, or else he'd have scorned himself for being a love-sick shmuck. "I didn't want her to be there. She insisted."

Lydia didn't respond. She roughly shook his hands from her shoulders, feeling betrayed, and grabbed her phone to dial Nona. There was no answer. Nona and Mandy were dancing tonight. She threw her phone to the couch, frustrated, and turned on her husband. "Who was it?"

He shrugged once more. "I dunno. Scrawny brunette in a basketball uniform."

" _Noah_." The word was whispered. " _Fuck_. Fuck fuck fuck." She was lacing up her boots and throwing on a jacket. "You're coming with me." Where she wanted to go was much further than ten miles away.

"You takin' me on a field trip, doll face?" Lydia glared at him, in no mood for his brand of humor, and draped her purse over her shoulder. This was the last thing in the entire world she wanted to do, but she had no choice. She needed to talk to her friends and she needed to talk to them _now_. "If I had any choice at all you'd stay right here and out of trouble, but I don't. So be on your best behavior or I'll never bring you there again. I _will_ move to Antarctica, just to spite you. Don't think I won't." He didn't doubt her.

Luna's food and water bowls were filled up before they hit the road in Lydia's modest four-door Sedan. Betelgeuse lit a cigarette and rolled down his window, watching as the tendrils of smoke swirled away with the passing wind. "You gonna tell me where we're headed, babe?" Lydia sneered and rolled her eyes, immensely put out that she'd been driven to this.

"The strip club."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The version of "Sway" (made famous by artists such as Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin) that Lydia sings in this chapter does not exist. I searched all over for one that sounded like what I was imagining and couldn't find it. So, just use your imagination like I did. ^^


	19. Chapter 19

_The Rear End_ was practically deserted. It was still early, after all. Things didn't usually start picking up until much later in the evening. Betelgeuse burst out in raucous laughter when they pulled into the parking lot and his eyes scanned the bright, flashing neon sign. Lydia scowled. He was enjoying himself entirely too much.

"Do my eyes deceive me? Is that my favorite princess of darkness? Lydia! Beautiful! Darling! Where have you been?"

As soon as they stepped through the doors of the questionable establishment Lydia was swept up into a hug by a plump older man with slicked-back black hair. He had a meticulously waxed handlebar mustache and a cigar between his teeth. The man wore an expensive looking pinstripe suit. Lydia clammed up at the contact, awkwardly returning the hug, and Betelgeuse had to resist the urge to pummel him. She pulled back and put a few feet between them. A forced, brilliant smile lit up her face.

"Hey, Joey! I've just been busy, you know, school and everything."

Joey Bianchi lifted Lydia's left hand to his lips and placed a wet kiss on her ring.

"You better tell this fat fuck to back the fuck off, Lyds."

Lydia ignored her jealous husband and discretely wiped her hand off on her dress, not wishing to offend her friends' boss.

"To what do I owe the pleasure? I assume you're looking for Coco and Diamond?"

Betelgeuse was laughing again, clutching his gut and slamming his fist down on the bar so hard that it shuddered, causing Joey to break off and glance at it. " _Coco and fucking Diamond_?!" Joey shrugged off the strange occurrence and turned his attention back to Lydia. "You're not here for an application, are you? We could really use a girl like you. You'd definitely draw in a different clientele." Betelgeuse's laughter stopped abruptly. With a tilt of his head one of the seltzer dispensers at the bar "malfunctioned", spraying down the finely dressed man.

"Shit!" Joey sputtered, moving out of the way of the cold stream. " _Chardonnay_!" A homely, scantily clad girl with crimped bleached blonde hair poked her head out from a curtain behind the bar. "Fix this shit!"

Lydia took this time to glare at her husband. ' _Stop it_.' She mouthed, before turning her attention back to the red-faced owner of the club. "Wow! That's really crazy! I can't believe that just happened!" Lydia was a terrible actress and feared that Joey would see right through her façade. He didn't.

" _Cheap piece of shit_. I need to go get cleaned up. Just wait here, I'll send your girls out." Joey waddled off, muttering curses. The club was empty, except for poor Chardonnay who examined the seltzer dispenser helplessly. The dancers were still preparing themselves for the night in the backroom. Patrons wouldn't start showing up for hours. Lydia slunk off to a darker corner, where they could talk without alarming the perplexed stripper.

"Lyds, babes, when you said you were takin' me to a strip club this is _not_ what I had in mind. This place is deader than me."

Lydia lit a cigarette and replied, her answer dripping with sarcasm. "You poor thing, you. So very sorry to disappoint. Tell you what, don't pull any more shit like what you just did with Joey and we'll come back another night. I'll even buy you a lap dance." Betelgeuse chuckled and lit up one of his own, sliding into the booth with her to throw one of his arms over her shoulders. "'Preciate the offer, sugar, but there's only one breather I want grindin' on my junk."

Lydia blushed and ashed her cigarette. "Why do you do that?"

He laughed in disbelief, jostling her. "Do _what_? Hit on my wife?"

"I mean… Yeah… You told me that this was a marriage of 'inconvenience.' I remember."

He turned his head to whisper into her ear scandalously. " _I lied_." She elbowed him half-heartedly. He shook his head, taking a long drag off of his cigarette. "You're fuckin' unbelievable, Lydia." It was only the second time he'd said her full name. "I give you my favorite ring- that rock belonged to Alexander the Great, ya know. I take care of the little shits who've been giving you and your friends trouble. I carry you to bed when you fall asleep in strange places. I give you a fuckin' kitten. I try to get my hands on your hot little body every chance I get. I tell you _outright_ that _I like you_. You've got me- _ME_ \- wrapped around your little finger, and you're still gonna sit here and act like you don't know what this is?" He almost sounded angry towards the end of his tirade. " _Fuck_. What's it gonna take to get you to believe that you're worth loving?"

Lydia froze. He'd never used the "L" word before in relation to his feelings for her. He seemed to realize what he'd said too late and shot her an uncomfortable sideways glance before stubbing out his cigarette. "I… I…" Poor girl looked like she might faint. It was too much. She slid out from under his arm, standing on shaking legs. "I need to… I don't know…" She was close to hyperventilating. The walls were closing in on her. The residual smoke from their cigarettes made her nauseous. A hand on her shoulder knocked her out of it. It was Mandy and Nona. Lydia threw her arms around Nona without thinking. "I need to get out of here. Come with me. Please." A bewildered lingerie-clad Nona returned the hug, shooting a puzzled look to the poltergeist over her friend's shoulder. He just buried his head in his hands.

"Handle him?" Nona asked Mandy. Mandy nodded, joining Betelgeuse in the booth. Nona walked Lydia through the dressing rooms out to the back exit. Once they were outside, Lydia collapsed against a brick wall, sliding down to the concrete, and taking large gasping breaths. Nona was unconcerned with her exposed state of dress. The parking lot was deserted this time of night. She crouched down next to Lydia, frowning. "Just breathe. It's okay. What happened?"

"He… He said he loved me… kind of." Nona raised an unimpressed eyebrow and stood from her crouching position, arms crossed. "That's all? I've known that since the first night I met him." Lydia looked up to her friend desperately, eyes wide and swimming with unshed tears. "I don't know what to do! I just… I can't… He can't…"

Nona's frown deepened sympathetically. "He can and he does. And you don't have to do anything. Wait here. I'm getting you a drink." The girl returned minutes later with a double shot of whiskey. Lydia winced as it went down burning. The alcohol had the desired effect. Her breathing calmed and her heart rate slowed. The tears that had been threatening to fall dissipated. "Did you help him kill Noah?"

Her friend just sighed and leaned against the wall next to Lydia. "If you're asking then you already know the answer. Do you hate me?"

Lydia leaned her head against Nona's thigh, empathetic. "I could never hate you. I love you. Promise me you were careful."

Nona stroked her friend's hair. "I promise. I'm not going to jail because of one of those bloody cockroaches."

"I'm sorry that we fought, Nona. I know you didn't mean what I thought you meant. I was just upset." Her friend's comforting fingers continued to pet her. It was soothing. "No apology necessary. I forgave you immediately. I'm sorry for making you believe, however briefly, that I thought something that horrible about you."

"What do I do, Nona? I've never done this before."

Nona laughed darkly. "Well, if it was me I'd tell the clingy bitch to hit the road. But you're not me, and he's not an overly attached one night stand." Lydia laughed despite herself. "Do you love him?"

The dark-haired girl shut her eyes tightly. "I don't know. What even is love? I like him. I think he's funny. He doesn't scare me." ' _Like other guys_.' The unspoken words were understood by Nona. Her friend helped her to her feet and pulled her in close.

"I've got shit news for you, mate. I don't know what love is either. You've got to decide on your own what you want. I personally think he's a git and that you could do much better." Lydia laughed into Nona's shoulder. "Just yesterday Mandy said pretty much the exact opposite."

Nona scoffed and they parted. "Well. If _Mandy_ said it then it must be the gospel truth."

* * *

Mandy called over Chardonnay and ordered the poltergeist a drink, which was promptly delivered. "What's up, Betelgeuse?" She inquired as soon as the fellow blonde dancer was a safe distance away.

"I'm a fuckin' idiot." He muttered into his hands, ignoring the drink.

She just laughed. "What else is new? Come on, what happened?"

"I told her I love her." Mandy's jovial countenance dissolved and both of her eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Oh."

"Girl's got me goin' crazy. Look at me! I'm two feet away from a fine ass blonde in a bikini made out of glitter and I _don't even care_!" Images of honey-colored eyes and long black hair plagued his mind. "Fuck. Did you see her? She was terrified! I just had to blab my fat mouth. Stupid stupid stupid…"

Mandy stopped his self-pitying rant by putting her hand on his. "Hey. Lydia's not scared of you. She's just scared of what you represent. This thing that you two have, it's all new to her. Let me put things into perspective for you. You have an eternity together, right?" He nodded pathetically. "You've only been back in her life for _four days_. Let me repeat that. Four. Days. That's nothing. That's a drop in the ocean."

Fuck. Had it really only been four days? Time flowed differently for the dead. A year could feel like a month. An hour could feel like decades. The three months that he'd spent watching her in the attic had felt like seconds. Apparently, seconds were all Lydia needed to have him hopelessly head over heels.

"You literally have forever to win her over. So chill out and drink your drink." He obeyed, knocking back the whiskey.

Before too long, Nona and Lydia returned from the back. Lydia kept her eyes downcast refusing to meet his as they joined him and Mandy at the booth. There was a long awkward silence.

Nona broke it. "You're gonna need to drive little miss sunshine here home, Betelgeuse. She's a lightweight." Lydia glanced up to meet his gaze for a split second before immediately retraining her gaze on the floor. She dug around in her purse and wordlessly slid her car keys across the table. He stood, also without a word, and offered her his hand. She took it without hesitation.

"I'll see you at home, Lydia." Mandy grabbed Lydia's free hand and squeezed tightly before releasing her. Together the strange couple walked out of the club hand in hand. Once they were out the door Mandy and Nona shared an exasperated sigh. The caramel skinned girl rolled her eyes and lit a cigarette.

"Just wait until they finally fuck."


	20. Chapter 20

Betelgeuse took back roads back to her apartment and drove slowly. It wouldn't do to be pulled over. The cop would freak, probably try to arrest Lydia, and then he'd have to kill him. Can't have that. Lydia had her seat leaned back far and was buckled up, eyes closed and hair dancing in the wind. Music played on the stereo through her phone connected to the auxiliary cord. They'd yet to say a single word to one another, neither yet able to summon the courage.

' _These feelings won't go away,_

_They've been knockin' me sideways,_

_They've been knockin' me out lately,_

_Whenever you come around me,_

_These feelings won't go away,_

_They've been knockin' me sideways,_

_I keep thinking in a moment that,_

_Time will take them away,_

_But these feelings won't go away,'_

Lydia spoke first, eyes still closed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have freaked out like that." She sat her seat up some and dug around in her purse for a cigarette, disappointed to find that her pack was empty. Without taking his eyes off of the road he presented her with a conjured one. She took it.

"Quit apologizin' for shit. You don't have anythin' to be sorry 'bout."

Lydia had nothing to say to this. It was going to be a long trip home with the path he was taking. Her head was swimming. She tended to avoid hard liquor. The drinks stolen from her father's study when she was a girl were simply an outlet for her teenage rebellion and a cure for boredom. Her tastes had since refined. Wine was her drink of choice now. Hard liquors, like whiskey and vodka, were reserved for emergencies. Like tonight. The question that had been on the tip of her tongue since they'd left the club spilled out of her mouth before she could stop herself, the whiskey giving her courage.

"Do you love me?"

He was silent for a long time, thinking, before pulling off to the side of the road and parking. The road was dark, lacking streetlights, and surrounded on all sides by forest. He left the car turned on, her music playing quietly in the background. The only light that served to illuminate them were the soft blue hues of her car's meters. Lydia's heart pounded as he stared at her hard, not speaking. He took the half-smoked cigarette out of her hand and took a long drag out of it, before tossing it past her head and out the window. The very same hand tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, caressing her cheek gently along the way. His touch was so soft, so subtle that she could only just barely feel it.

"I've loved you since the first time I saw you in your little Catholic school girl outfit studyin' the handbook like it was the fuckin' Bible."

Lydia's breath caught in her throat. He'd been there the whole time. She acted on impulse, unbuckling her seatbelt and lifting the center console so that there was nothing in between them, and turned so that her left knee was on the seat betwixt her and her husband. It was an awkward position. Her trembling hands rose to rest on his shoulders to maintain balance. With alcohol induced conviction, she planted her lips on his clumsily. Louis Armstrong crooned along, unconcerned.

' _Another bride, another June,_

_Another sunny honeymoon,_

_Another season, another reason,_

_For makin' whoopee…'_

She missed at first, catching the corner of his mouth. Then she tried again and hit the mark. She felt impossibly silly and awkward. He'd taken charge of all of their previous kisses, doing all the work. He was infuriatingly still now, allowing her to experiment and do what she wished with him. She tried to copy the things that he'd done to her, drawing his bottom lip into her mouth and biting gently. When Lydia finally pulled back, embarrassed by how forward she'd been, she froze to see that his eyes were open, sharp, and intense. His left hand was clenched so tightly around the steering wheel that the tendons in his hand and wrist strained painfully. The right was in much the same state, grasping the material of her headrest so tightly that his nails were close to ripping the material. Her hand on his right shoulder trailed down his arm to grasp his trembling fist around the steering wheel. He snapped.

The hand around the wheel moved to adjust his seat so that he was lying flat. The arm behind her gathered her up in one smooth motion, pulling her around so that her knees rested on either side of his hips. Cold hands slid up her bare thighs and under her dress, one coming to rest over her lacy boy shorts, the other plastered flat against the small of her back, forcing her to arch against him. Lydia gasped out in pain when he bit her neck, but the slight discomfort was eased away by his icy tongue lathering the blemish. The hand on her hip pulled her down, grinding her against him. He was hard as a fucking rock. Lydia's unsure hands fisted in his hair as he trailed his mouth down to her chest, biting, kissing, and licking all the way.

" _Do you know what you do to me, little girl_?" The words were ground out against the flesh of her bosom. His hands had abandoned her hip and back in favor of tugging down her dress so that it lay slack around her hips. Lydia didn't wear bras. Her entire upper torso was completely exposed to him. She opened her mouth to answer, the words dying on her throat and turning into a husky moan when his mouth captured one of her breasts, suckling and nibbling at it. His left hand manipulated its twin until her nipple peaked, his right clutching her hip and rocking her hard against his erection.

He stopped suddenly and sat her upright on his lap, laying back to drink her in. She was a goddess above him. Her ivory skin practically glowed in the darkness. The dim light behind her silhouetted her form and gave the long ebony waves that tumbled around her slight figure a soft blue sheen. Her perfect breasts, just big enough to overflow in his large hands, rose and fell hypnotically with each breath. Their peaks were pebbled and dusted pink from his administrations. The intricate tattoos on her biceps gave her the appearance of a lunar deity. Her only imperfections were the marks left behind in the wake of his lust. An unfamiliar folk tune twanged along sadly.

' _Be not so nervous, be not so frail,_

_Someone watches you, you will not fail,_

_Be not so nervous, be not so frail,_

_Be not so nervous, be not so frail,_

_Be not so sorry for what you've done,_

_You must forgive them now, it's done,_

_And when you wake up you will find that you can run,_

_Be not so sorry for what you've done,'_

She flushed becomingly under his scrutiny and tentatively lifted her arms to cover her breasts. He sat up, supporting himself with one elbow, and attempted to gently peel her arms away. She held fast. "Don't. You're perfect."

She shut her eyes tight and dipped her chin down to her chest, creating an inky curtain with her hair that hid her face from view. "No, I'm not. I'm too short. My skin's pasty. I have a tooth that sticks out funny when I smile. My forehead's too big, it's why I wear my bangs like this-"

He shushed her with a hand over her mouth, brows furrowed and shaking his head furiously in disagreement. "No. Stop that. Who told you that? I'll fucking kill them."

She shook her head, clutching herself tighter. "No one. I just know."

"You're not seein' what I'm seein' then, babe." Betelgeuse sat up with her and pushed her back gently so that her back was arched against the steering wheel. She complied this time when he gingerly peeled her arms away from her chest. They fell limply to her sides. He tilted her head back up, fingers brushing across her lips.

"Smile for me. With your teeth." She obeyed. It was an awkward smile, lacking the emotion that was required to make a smile mean anything.

"Beautiful." He kissed her bottom lip tenderly and her forced smile fell away. His hand brushed her bangs up so that he could examine her face without any hindrances. "Looks like a perfectly good forehead ta me." Now he kissed there. His fingers traced her cheekbones, trailing down to her neck, across her collarbone, down her chest and over her nipples, down to the stretched taught muscles of her abdomen. Moon and starlight shining down through the windshield made her alabaster flesh radiate brilliantly. "Flawless…" He whispered, trailing off, entranced. She trembled under his light caresses. Her eyes were shut tight again and she bit her lips. "I'm not." The whisper was just barely audible.

" _You are_." He growled, pulling her off of the steering wheel and back against him. Her head only came up to his chin in this position and he had to crane his neck to kiss her. She was so delicate and tense in his arms, like a small animal contemplating which instinct to give in to; fight or flight. His hands kneaded her lower back, urging her to relax, to enjoy herself as he worked gently, fastidiously at her lips. Just as she was starting to melt back into him, her sweet mouth opening to shyly tangle her inexperienced tongue with his, she froze. A car drove down the lonely road they were parked on and its high beams lit them up as though it were broad daylight. She scrambled off of his lap once it passed, tugging her dress back up roughly so that she was adequately covered.

Betelgeuse cursed his stupidity. This was hardly the place, and she was intoxicated. His wife deserved better than a rushed messy fuck on the side of some hick country road. She was breathing hard, big honey eyes trained on the foreign vehicle until it disappeared over the horizon. Without a word he revved up the engine, started the car back in the direction of her apartment, and conjured cigarettes for the both of them.

' _This will never end 'cause I want more,_

_More, give me more, give me more,_

_If I had a heart I could love you,_

_If I had a voice I would sing,_

_After the night when I wake up,_

_I'll see what tomorrow brings,'_

Lydia paused the dulcet tones of the song that played through her speakers. The wind rushing through the windows was their music now. She spoke abruptly, her voice a bit louder than it needed to be. "I want to tell you something. But I don't want you to look at me differently. I like- I like the way that you look at me now." She sounded scared. The only hand he had on the steering wheel drifted to her knee, his thumb brushing the skin there in a comforting gesture. The car continued driving by itself at the behest of his magic. "I won't. Go on." He had a sick feeling that he already knew what she had to say.

"The reason that my elementary school sent a social worker to my home was because my teachers noticed that I had track marks in between my fingers and that I was too small for my age. I missed a lot of school and was sick a lot. I couldn't hold down the cafeteria food." She paused for a long moment, tensing up rigidly and sucking her cigarette down like a chimney. "My mom's boyfriend had been drugging me at night. For years. He'd wait until my mom was nice and fucked up and… come to my room… and…"

He couldn't bear to hear another word of it. "Stop. No more." She was sobbing now, shaking and hysterical. Her half-finished cigarette was tossed out of the window and the hand on her knee tugged her over to his side. She cried out desperately, speaking muttered gibberish into his suit and clutching him like a lifeline. Her hot tears eventually soaked through his suit to his chilled skin and he felt his heart break. Both of his arms wrapped around her tightly and she returned the gesture, arms around his neck as she broke down.

Her crying had calmed down to sniffles by the time they pulled into the parking lot of her apartment complex. When they stepped out of the car and he saw that her legs shook when she walked he swept her up into his arms bridal style. "Wha-"

They were in her bedroom in an instant. He set her down on the edge of her bed and dropped to his knees. Her quivering hands came to rest on his shoulders as he unlaced her boots, removing them one by one, as well as her stockings. "Wh-what are you doing?" Lydia's beautiful face was red and blotchy, her eyes and lips puffy. Her voice trembled when she spoke.

"Taking care of you." His answer was smooth and concise, emotions carefully schooled.

"Oh."

He waved his hand over her and her dress was gone. In its place was a long spaghetti-strapped black nightgown made of satin. It caressed her skin like water. She smoothed her hands across her thighs, savoring the cool sensation of the material. Once he was satisfied that she was adequately cared for and ready for bed, he stood from his knees and took her head in between his hands, placing his lips firmly on her forehead. "Goodnight, Lydia."

"Wait!" She grabbed his hand tightly when he turned to leave, stopping him in his tracks. "Stay with me tonight?"

' _Fuck_.' It was going to be a long night. His wife, despite her current blotchy complexion, was a temptress draped in shadowy silk and she'd be pressing those soft, warm curves up against him all night long. And he wouldn't be able to do shit about it without feeling like a no good rotten piece of trash. Still, he twisted his lips into a smirk and his eyes narrowed on her. She smiled a genuine smile, her first since they'd left the club. That was the look she'd feared the absence of.

"Anything you want, baby."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The songs used in this chapter are (in order) "Sideways" by Citizen Cope ft. Santana, "Makin' Whoopee" by Louis Armstrong, "Be Not So Fearful" by A. C. Newman, and "If I Had a Heart" by Fever Ray.


	21. Chapter 21

This was torture. And Betelgeuse knew torture. She'd fallen asleep quickly, worn out from her breakdown. She'd pulled him into her bed- politely requesting him to take off his boots first- and curled up against his side. They'd cuddled a lot in the past few days, and that had been unbearable as well, but it was worse now that he knew what she had under those black scraps of cloth she called clothing. Right now her leg was thrown over his, her warm thigh nestled up nice and snug against his raging hard-on. She was using his shoulder as a pillow and her hot breath came out in even puffs against his neck. His arm was wrapped around her, hand resting on the curve of her hip. They'd been this way all fucking night. She hadn't moved once except to bury herself closer. She was driving him fucking insane and he thought he'd already crossed that line centuries ago.

Her emotional confession had left him speechless. It was so much worse than what he'd been thinking. ' _If I ever find the fucker…_ ' What he'd do to him would make Noah's mangled corpse look like Hugh fucking Jackman. "Years" she'd said. _Fucking years_. He wouldn't be surprised if he found out that her cunt mother had been renting her out to the nameless scum just to get a fix. Lydia seemed to idealize the woman. What could he do but hold her and let her cry on his shoulder, let her drag him to bed and use him like a stuffed fucking animal? This is what he wanted after all. It was a bittersweet victory.

Her cell phone chiming on the nightstand next to them caused her to begin stirring. It lit up with a photo of Charles Deetz in a Hawaiian shirt standing on a beach next to Lydia's step-mother.

"Mm…" His wife buried her face deeper into his suit, hiding from the sound. "No…" He grinned, taking that as an invitation to answer the call.

"Hey, Dad! Lyds can't talk right now; she's… heh, a little tied up at the moment." That woke Lydia right up. Her eyes snapped open and she launched for her phone. With a snap of his fingers, her wrists were tied together at her headboard with a silk scarf.

" _Damn it, Betelgeuse_! Give me my phone!" She bucked, red-faced, tugging furiously at her bindings. Charles Deetz sputtered on the other end of the line. "You- What- Why- Let me talk to Lydia! Leave her alone!"

"Ya know what, Dad? I'm thinkin' the wife and I should come for a visit soon. I've got some shit I need to talk ta ya about, man to fuckin' man." Lydia's father paled.

His daughter growled in the background, furious and struggling like a hellcat. "I swear to fucking God if you don't let me out NOW and I mean _RIGHT FUCKING NOW YOU ARE NEVER TOUCHING ME AGAIN_!"

Charles was going to have a heart attack. His little girl didn't _cuss_. She definitely didn't let filthy old men touch her. He was dumbstruck. Betelgeuse made a show of rolling his eyes in exasperation before releasing his lovely wife and offering the phone up.

"Daddy?!" She was breathing hard. This did nothing to calm her father's nerves. "Pumpkin! Are you okay? Did that monster hurt you? You know Adam and Barbara will use their voucher to get Juno-"

She interrupted him, standing from the bed to pace. "No! No, no Daddy I'm fine. He wouldn't hurt me. They don't need to do that. Calm down, Daddy, you're gonna give yourself a stroke." Betelgeuse chuckled, thoroughly amused, as he watched her walk back and forth like a caged animal as she attempted to placate her father. She threw a hairbrush at him.

"No, Daddy, you don't need to drive here, I'm just fine... Oh, that? No, no he was just trying to get under your skin… Daddy, I can't make a promise like that, it's just impractical…"

Her husband was having entirely too good of a time trying to decipher what Daddy-In-Law was saying on the other end of the line.

"Why did you call, anyway?... Oh! Okay, I'll go check." Lydia threw him a nasty look before departing from her bedroom. She returned, still on the phone with her father, carrying an oblong brown package. "Hold on, Daddy." She held the phone away from her ear and regarded Betelgeuse. "Do you have a knife?" He dug in his coat pocket, retrieving a familiar vicious looking switchblade. Lydia appraised it with interest when he tossed it her way. "Neat."

She knelt down on the ground and began cutting into the package. It was a pretty sight, his wife on her knees. Once the box was open, packaging paper littering the floor around her, she sucked in an adoring breath. "Dad… It's beautiful…"

"It better be, pumpkin. I'm out three grand because of that thing. Tell me if there's anything wrong with it at all and I'll raise Hell with the sellers." Lydia ran a loving hand along the gift, hardly believing what was in front of her. "No, it's perfect. I love it."

Betelgeuse watched with avid interest as his wife pulled a _fucking katana_ out of the box and swung it around clumsily with her left hand. "I love you, too, Daddy. Buh-bye." Lydia hung up the phone and tossed it to the bed, gripping the thing with both hands now.

"Hold the fuck up, is that thing legit?!" He floated off the bed to inspect her present with her, a little impressed with Chucky despite himself. Lydia was ecstatic, her pale face flushed with joy for once. " _Oh, yeah_. It's not only legit, take a closer look. Recognize it?" Her hands held it up so that he could inspect it further. The handle was strapped with fine white leather. The base of the wrapped steel was engraved with an intricate trinity symbol.

It was definitely familiar looking, but he couldn't quite place it. "I've seen this thing somewhere before…"

Lydia squealed excitedly and swung it once more through the air with a _swish_. "It's MICHONNE'S!"

Oh, yeah! The samurai chick from that show she had him watching. "That." He paused, an idea coming to him. "Is fucking cool. Hey, babe." She stopped twirling around, landing in a clichéd pose to meet his gaze, a goofy smile on her face. "Yeah?"

"Wanna kill some _real_ zombies?"

Her eyes widened in wonder, the sword dropping to her side. "You can't… You can do that?"

"Bet your sweet ass I can. Wanna?"

She bit her lip, tempted. "I have class today…" She trailed off, her gaze dropping to the sword as she contemplated her decisions. Go to school- she only had academic classes today- and learn some shit she'd never use again? Or go off with her husband and _kill real live zombies with Michonne's katana_?

"Whaddya need school for, anyway? You don't need money. I can give you everything you want or need. Besides, those degrees are gonna be worthless in twenty years or so when people start noticing that you're still a fine ass twenty-one-year-old."

He made a convincing argument. An uncharacteristically devious glint darkened Lydia's honey eyes. "Let's do it!"

Betelgeuse stood from the bed, egged on by her enthusiasm. "Alright, let's get you dressed for an apocalypse! Hot as you are in that little number…" He waved his hand at her and she was dressed all in black leather, head to toe. The boots laced up to her knees and lacked a heel of any kind, for practicality, and had a steel toe implant. The pants were tight, but breathable, and would allow for a wide range of movement. The jacket was made out of the same material as the pants and was equally malleable. Beneath the jacket, she wore a simple black cotton tank that exposed the tattoo on her midriff. Her long hair was pulled into a tight braid.

Lydia appraised her reflection appreciatively, posing with the katana. "I look like a fucking badass."

Betelgeuse chortled, appreciating the curve of her ass in the painted-on pants. "Oh, yeah. You're a regular femme fatale. I'm quakin' in my boots." Lydia turned on him quickly, sword pointed at his throat. She used the tip of the katana to raise his gaze up from her backside. "Careful. I might decide to try this out on you. See if the dead can bleed." Her teasing grin gave away her true emotions.

He raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "It'll take a hell of a lot more than a shiny metal stick to take me out, doll."

The sword was back at her side. "Well? Let's go!" He grinned darkly and took hold of her free hand. As soon as the contact was made, they were gone. Lydia stumbled at the abrupt change in scenery and he steadied her. "Where are we?"

They stood in an empty, foggy field. There was nothing but grass in every direction, as far as the eye could see. "Eastern Europe. Potter's field. Lots of targets here."

Lydia stepped away from him, sword gripped tightly in anticipation. She didn't have to wait long. The ground trembled menacingly, and then the dead began to rise. He started off with just one. Of course, she was in no danger with him right there, but he didn't want to overwhelm her right off the bat. It clawed its way up from the ground and stumbled blindly towards her, snapping hungry teeth. In one smooth motion, its head was sliced in half and it fell back to the ground, lifeless once more. " _SHIT_!" Lydia yelled, laughing madly and checking out the sludge like blood now splattered across her pants. Before she knew what was happening, there were two more behind her, less than ten feet away. They were dispatched in a similar manner. Then there were three coming after her, in a triangular formation. Betelgeuse watched, enthralled, as she took them out one at a time. The first was cut down at the legs. It lay on the ground, biting and snarling, while number two was taken down with a clean stab through the skull. Number three had its arms dismembered just as it was coming close enough to grab her and then faced a cleaner decapitation than her first kill did.

She had a bit more trouble with the next four. One almost- not really, though- took a chunk out of her neck, but she whirled around and sliced it clean in half, spilling rotting guts all over her new boots. "FUCK!" She cursed, a wild grin on her face as she crushed in the skull of a wriggler left over from an earlier batch. Lydia's movements were becoming smoother with each kill, and she seemed unfazed by the fact that she was dripping in rancid organic matter. Residual blood made her grip on the sword slippery, though, and when he sent six after her, she was overwhelmed.

A bloodcurdling scream escaped her throat as she was knocked to the ground by one and its teeth came close to ripping into her face. And then, just like that, they were gone.

She was glorious, breathing deeply on the blood-slicked grass, eyes alight with fire. He stood over her, crushing a cigarette on the ground beside her. "Havin' fun?"

Once the shock of almost- not really, though- meeting her end at the hands of a zombie wore off, she smiled brilliantly up at him with her cute little blood-spattered face. Her response was gasped out in between deep breaths. "That… was the most… fun… I have ever had… in my life… gimme a cigarette…" He crouched down and placed an already lit one between her lips. She sucked in and exhaled, closing her eyes and basking in the surrounding carnage. "How many did I kill?"

Betelgeuse bit his tongue and looked around, counting heads. "Let's see… Sweet sixteen, my little angel of death."

"Sixteen. I killed sixteen zombies. Oh my god." She broke into hysterical laughter, rolling onto her side, her braid matted with blood. Her next words were shouted to the heavens as she stretched her arms and legs out in the pool of blood.

"WOO HOO! I KILLED SIXTEEN FUCKING ZOMBIES! THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE!"


	22. Chapter 22

By the time Lydia was finally ready to call it quits her kill count was in the high hundreds. She hadn't bothered asking him to clean her up in between waves. She would just politely ask for a towel, wipe down her hands and sword, and tell him with a bloodthirsty glint in her eyes to "keep em' comin'." Betelgeuse had expected her to quake at the first sight of a real live zombie, but of course, in typical Lydia fashion, she surprised him. He really was in love.

He always started her over from the beginning when she was about to be bitten. That was her Game Over point. She managed to make it as high as a wave of twelve before giving up, collapsed in a pile of rotting limbs.

"You ready for more, baby? I can do this all day."

The sun was high in the sky now, beating down on them. The stink of her own sweat mingled sickeningly with the putrid blood and guts that coated nearly every inch of her. The cotton tank was crusted to her skin. Her jacket had been abandoned a while ago in favor of gaining a wider range of movement. Her arms and legs ached. She was absolutely disgustingly filthy and she _loved it_.

"I don't think I can. Everything hurts."

Betelgeuse chuckled, checking his watch. "You have been on a murderous rampage for the past three hours. That'll do that to ya." He crouched down, brushing blood-crusted bangs off of her sticky forehead. "Whatcha wanna do? You said, quite loudly in fact, that this was the best day of your life. Let's keep that up. We can do anything and go anywhere. I'm at your disposal."

Lydia laughed, grinning and closing her eyes. "How about a shower?"

He scowled, pulling her up from the ground roughly. "You're a regular party animal, aren't cha?" With that, they were in her bedroom. She looked around, befuddled. "Where's my sword?"

"Clean, sheathed, and back in the box."

Her arms were unexpectedly thrown around his neck, and she kissed his cheek. "Thank you," Betelgeuse swore he felt his heart _thump_ in his chest. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her in close, unconcerned with the zombie guts sloughing off of her and onto his suit, a sleazy grin curling his lips. "Anytime, sexy. You gonna let me scrub your back?"

Lydia scoffed and pulled away to start the shower running. " _You_ want to take a shower?" She pulled out her braid and her hair unraveled around her in blood encrusted wild waves. She sat down on the edge of the tub and began the arduous task of unlacing the extravagant boots he'd dressed her in as steam began to fill the room.

"I'm due. It's been decades. You're makin' the idea real attractive. You gonna keep up the strip tease?"

Adrenaline left over from her undead massacre fed her a naughty idea. She stood, back facing him, and slowly peeled the soiled top off. It caught her long hair on the way up and he got his first look at the masterpiece on her back. Before she had a chance to step into the shower, pants and all, and close the curtain on him like she'd planned, he had both hands on her biceps, holding her still. He moved her large mass of hair out of the way over her shoulder and traced the tattoo.

"When did you get this?"

She looked over her shoulder at him. A thin layer of dried blood obscured her pink cheeks. His expression was soft but calculating.

"A few months ago, right before Christmas. It used to be just the raven. But I dunno… It felt incomplete."

His hands grabbed her hips and turned her around abruptly. Jade eyes stared into hers hard, not once trailing down to her exposed breasts. He bent down a little, hands on the back of her thighs, and hoisted her up so that her leather-clad legs wrapped around his waist. Her arms instinctively came to wrap around his neck and he stepped into the running water with her, fully clothed. There was no way of telling who kissed who first. She was slammed against the tiled wall and then they were a tangle of lips, teeth, and tongue. Lydia acted on pure instinct. Her hands ripped his jacket open, little black buttons raining into the tub, and fisted in his hair to pull back his head so that she could bite his Adam's apple. " _Fuck_." He hissed, bucking against her. Years of amassed filth flaked away in the hot stream as she ran her fingers through his hair and attacked his neck. His hands, which were gripping her thighs with a bruising force, relaxed and allowed her feet slide to the porcelain floor. "Turn around." She obeyed, like a good girl. Cold hands slipped around to her front to unbutton, unzip, and pull down her pants. The soaked, filthy things were tossed out. Her black, lace thong- ' _Fuck me_.'- followed. She was bare before him now, for the first time. His soaked jacket and shirt joined her pants on the floor. He stood back for a moment and savored the site. Her torso and cheek were plastered against the slick tiled wall, and her back was arched, legs parted just so. Her big eyes were looking at him like he hung the moon, just for her. Red-tinted water streamed down her luscious body. It was a testament to his saint-like patience that he didn't just whip out his cock and fuck her senseless right then and there.

Betelgeuse gripped her hips and ground her bare ass against the sopping material of his pants, biting her shoulder viciously. She gasped, big eyes squeezing shut. "Are you a dirty girl?" He spoke, her flesh still between his teeth.

"Yes!" She answered, hands fisting against the wet tile.

"Let's get you cleaned up, then."

He grabbed a bottle that said "Shampoo" and squirted out a generous amount onto her scalp. His hands quickly worked it into a dark pink lather. She let out little breathy moans here and there as he scratched and massaged her scalp. The detachable shower head was removed to rinse the tresses before he repeated the process. This was done multiple times until the lather came out white. Then, he grabbed the bottle that read "Conditioner" and applied it in much the same way, starting at the ends of her hair this time. Once her long, thick mane was slippery with the moisturizing balm, he flipped it around to hang in front of her body so that her back was once again exposed to him. The cloying scent of vanilla and honey, _her scent_ , ensnared his senses when he lathered her up with body wash.

He was meticulous, scrubbing each body part starting with her shoulders and working down in small circles, not too hard but not too light, until he was satisfied that each alabaster limb was clean. Lydia's eyes were closed and her breathing even as her front stayed plastered against the wall. She seemed completely at ease with this, with him pampering her. Once he was done with her calves he urged her to turn around. A groan was held back when he noticed that her nether regions were _completely bald_. Her tiny wrists were gathered in his hands and placed high on the wall above her head. "Keep those there." Once again, she obeyed, biting her lip and looking at him with that look that drove him crazy. He started back up scrubbing her down, from her fingernails, to her wrists, to her armpits, to her chest. The loofa was abandoned for a moment when he got there. His hands lifted the sopping, soapy mounds, manipulating her light pink nipples in between the pads of his fingers. She moaned breathily, head leaning back against the wall, eyes shut tight, lips parted and chest jutted forward. He could tell that she desperately wished to move her hands, to clutch at him, but they never left their place above her head. He didn't even have to use his magic.

Adequately satisfied with the rosy shade of her nipples, the loofa was back and he dropped to his knees to begin work on her stomach and thighs. The sensitive region between her legs was purposefully left untouched. It was excruciating for both of them. Lydia sighed in utter pleasure when he massaged the soap into each of her tiny feet, one at a time, really working into the sore muscles there. He stood now, pulling her off of the wall and into the stream of water. His hands worked through her now luxuriously silky hair, helping the water rinse out the conditioner.

The water was shut off with a wave of his hand, and then before she knew what was happening she was lying flat, still soaking wet, on her bed and he was on top of her, equally soaked. She couldn't bring herself to care about the state of her covers, however, when his mouth latched onto her left breast and his hand slid down to her- "Oh!"

"You've been such a good, good girl for me, princess. I think you deserve a reward."

And then his mouth replaced his fingers and she was seeing stars. He had a thigh in each hand, spreading her wide open for him. Lydia had never before experienced this brand of pleasure, but this couldn't be normal. This couldn't be what it was like with ordinary men. His tongue was impossibly long and seemed to be everywhere, inside of her pushing against something that made her buck her hips every time he manipulated it, and yet simultaneously the appendage writhed against the small bundle of nerves at the top of her entrance in an agonizingly sweet friction. He couldn't have been going at her for more than a minute before the first ever orgasm of Lydia's life wracked her body. She clenched up everywhere, her inner walls constricting tightly along his tongue before sweet high-pitched unintelligible mewls escaped her lips and her entire body quaked. Her hips bucked against his mouth wildly, but he held her fast, and her hands reach for anything, everything at once. Once the pleasurable waves calmed down to ripples, she thought he'd pull back and give her a cocky grin, probably say something that would make her blush. But he didn't. He just kept going. And he didn't stop until she begged him to.

"Stop! Please! No more!" He complied, pulling back to examine her red, swollen lower lips. That was seven, by his count. He blew a stream of cool breath over them and her entire body shuddered. "B…" She moaned, closing her thighs tight.

" _That_ , babe," he nipped her thigh playfully, "is why they call me the ghost with the most." He crawled up the bed to join her, drinking her in. Every muscle was slack and her wet hair stuck to her face and chest in funny places. Her eyes, which had remained shut throughout most of the ordeal, peeled open and she lazily turned onto her side to face him. Her hand hesitantly, shyly sought out his groin and rested against the heavy length of cold, hard flesh there beneath the damp material of his pants. Her big eyes were looking at him with that look again. "Do you… do you want me to…"

Betelgeuse couldn't believe the words that were about to come out of his mouth. He grabbed the hand that had been caressing his cock, pulled it up to his mouth and kissed her inner wrist. "Nah, I'm fine." He knew she was only asking because she thought he'd expect it. She was scared. She wasn't ready for that. An almost imperceptible sigh of relief escaped her lips and she smiled sweetly up at him.

"I've never… Uhm… Felt uh, you know…"

He cackled, drawing in her damp flushed body so that she was pressed up against his side. "Are you tryna tell me you've never cum before?"

She buried her face in his bare chest, mortified. "Yes."

He puffed up with pride and held her a little tighter. That particular part of her would always belong to him. Nobody could take that away. "Consider yourself lucky. There are lots of women that walk around their whole life and never experience an orgasm. It's a cryin' shame. Most guys are selfish fucks, only care about getting themselves off. Now come on, let's get you dressed and we can decide what to do with the rest of the 'best day of your life'."

In an instant, they were both completely dry, as well as the covers. Lydia slid from the bed to her closet and as Betelgeuse watched her naked form walk away he cursed himself for denying her offer. He _just had_ to love and care about her, didn't he? He couldn't just be his normal selfish self and stuff his cock down her throat. But then she threw on an oversized shirt and smiled dazzlingly at him while she dragged him off of her bed to go smoke a cigarette. He felt his heart thump in his chest again and his previous train of thought was forgotten.

When they exited her bedroom, they were greeted by the sight of Nona and Mandy shushing each other furiously. They sat on the couch and stared at the couple, giggling like schoolgirls who'd just been let in on a juicy bit of gossip.


	23. Chapter 23

Mandy and Nona had returned to the apartment after their shared class to wind down. Imagine their surprise when they were greeted with the sounds of loud, pleasurable female moans coming from their virginal friend's room. Mandy's jaw dropped. Nona covered her mouth with both hands to muffle her hysterical giggles. The man truly was an artist. It had only taken him five days to seduce their anti-social little black butterfly. It was impressive.

"I should take him to the club with me sometime," Nona whispered, pausing to muffle even more uncontrollable laughter as Lydia practically screamed from the confines of her bedroom. "Get some pointers!"

Mandy was ecstatic, practically bouncing on her feet. "I'm so happy for her! _Oh my god_ , I wonder if they'll get married again?" She grabbed Nona's hands, shaking with excitement. "We could be _bridesmaids_! Eeek! Luna could be the ring bearer, _it would be so cute_! Oh my god oh my god I can see it now."

Nona shushed her loudly and they both turned their heads sharply at the sound of Lydia's door opening. The ghost and the goth stepped out together, his hand on the small of her back and her with her neck craned up to look at his face, a breath-taking smile on her lips. He was bare from the hips up and Lydia was wearing one of her more revealing sleeping shirts, one that stopped just below the curve of her ass. She was glowing. There was a pink tinge in the apples of her cheeks that could only possibly come from mind-blowing pleasure, and a sway in her hips when she walked that had never been there before.

Lydia's languid demeanor vanished, however, when she noticed that she and her lover were not alone. The pink tinge in her cheeks darkened and spread down to her neck, her big eyes widening impossibly larger as she took a step back into Betelgeuse's bare chest. He was unfazed by the thought of having been caught in a compromising situation. Shit, if they wanted to watch all they had to do was say so. He'd juice up some chairs for em' and give em' a real show. His blushing bride, however, was horrified. "How long have you two been sitting there?"

They didn't answer. It was too much. The dam broke and their laughter burst forth. They fell over one another on the couch, unable to form words, just pointing at the both of them like it was the funniest shit they'd ever seen. Lydia huffed and stomped her foot. "Shut up!"

" _Lydia has a boyfriend_!" Mandy sing-songed between laughter, clutching Nona tightly. " _Lydia's going to have babies_!" Nona quipped back, curls flying this way and that as she shook with mirth. The two joined hands, evil smiles on their beautiful faces.

"Lydia and BJ, sitting in a tree

F-U-C-K-I-N-G!"

Lydia put her hands over her ears and shut her eyes tight. "LA LA LA LA I CAN'T HEAR YOU I CAN'T HEAR YOU LA LA LA LA!"

Luna meowed loudly at all the commotion. Betelgeuse was thoroughly amused by all three of them. However, this was supposed to be the best day of Lydia's life. Couldn't have her friends ruining it with merciless teasing. He peeled a hand off of her ear and whispered into it. "Let's get outta here, babe." She turned to face him and nodded her head eagerly. "Please."

And then they were gone. Mandy reached out towards the space where they had stood before disappearing, falling off of the couch in her attempt. "No! Come back, I'm sorry!" The plea fell on non-existent ears.

Nona was still laughing, feeling less guilty than Mandy. "Maybe we shouldn't have fucked with her like that."

Mandy pouted from her place on the floor. "But… but… _I wanna plan the wedding_!"

* * *

Lydia stumbled a bit on the landing. "I don't think I'm ever going to get used to that… Where are we?"

Their surroundings were filthy and cluttered. There was a dust-covered, well-worn red crushed-velvet loveseat against one wall. The coffee table in front of it was littered with crumpled newspapers and empty beer bottles. The only source of light in the room was a perpetually lit oil lamp. It was freezing here, wherever "here" was.

"This is my place. Figured we spent enough time at your joint, you oughta see mine. Sorry 'bout the mess, been awhile since I've had visitors."

By "awhile" he meant never. Lydia was enchanted. She lifted the oil lamp up to a painting on his wall. It was a renaissance style portrait of an old, naked gray-bearded man sucking the teat of a fat woman in fine attire. Her plump face was twisted in an obscene show of pleasure. A beetle crawled up over the edge of the frame and Betelgeuse's hand reached over her shoulder to snatch it up. It went down with a crunch. She was undaunted.

"No, I love it... Whose work is this?"

He shrugged, putting his ratty bathrobe over her shoulders when he noticed that she had goose bumps. "Dunno. Stole it from a museum in Italy I was hauntin' back in the 1600's."

She raised a gentle hand to trace the rotund woman's crimson gown. "It's beautiful."

"Want it?"

She shook her head, entranced. "No… No, it belongs here. It wouldn't suit my apartment." She turned around to face him when something occurred to her. "Wait… are we in the Neitherworld? We are, aren't we?"

"Guilty as charged." He tugged on his jacket cuff, which had magically been reinstated during their travel through dimensions. "I meant it when I said 'anywhere', angel."

Lydia looked around wildly, searching before her eyes landed on a window. She darted to it, pulling back the heavy, moldy curtains to get a look outside. A breath of awe was sucked into her lungs. "Amazing…" The sky was a bright vivid orange. There were no clouds, no moon, no sun; just blinding neon orange. A concrete highway twisted and coiled before her like a rollercoaster, disappearing into the horizon. It appeared to be floating mid-air, and twisters made of sand raged around it. The ground was out of sight below them. She turned her head to the right and saw a door that must've led outside. Her hand went to turn the handle but was stopped by his.

"I want to go see!"

His expression was grim. "Can't let you do that. Too dangerous. If ya wanna tour of the Neitherworld, I'm your guide, babe, but you _cannot_ go out there."

Before Lydia had a chance to argue the point the house rumbled around them, empty beer bottles shattering on the floor. She dashed away to look out the window again. A massive sandworm, too gargantuan to put into words, erupted from the abyss below the highway. Betelgeuse whistled beside her, appraising. "That's a big one. Must be a mama. Haven't seen one of those in a while." A glass-breaking screech erupted from its open mouth, which was filled with rows and rows of impossibly long, sharp teeth. Lydia's hand unconsciously sought out his and grasped it tight. Not in fear, but in fascination. If she didn't have a lifeline to cling to she might faint from the sheer fantastical nature of it all. Her eyes were wide, lips parted, her other hand pressed up against the glass as though if she tried hard enough she could reach through and pet the vicious creature.

The sandworm coiled around the curve of the highway once, twice, three times, before disappearing back from whence it came. All at once, his home was still once more. Lydia was still pressed up against the window, like any moment the creature would make a second appearance. "Why would you ever want to leave this place?" She was internally cursing the Maitlands for their inaccurate description of the Neitherworld. They'd told her that it was a dismal place, boring and colorless. It was becoming increasingly clear to her that they had no idea what they were talking about. She'd eaten up their every word. Why wouldn't she? They were _ghosts_ , and she was just a dumb little living girl.

Betelgeuse scoffed beside her, eyes narrowed on a far off twister. "It may seem cool now, but it gets old. Fast. After the first couple of years, you start to miss the stupid things. Like weather. Trees. Sunlight."

Lydia closed the curtain, overwhelmed. She floated to the couch and fell back, sneezing when that released a cloud of dust into the air. "So this is it? This is where all dead people end up?"

He lit them both cigarettes, passed her one, and joined her on the couch, an arm over her shoulders. "Yep. All of em. Everyone has their own place, though. Not all ghouls are created equal. Suicides are at the bottom of the food-chain. They get stuck working for Juno in the Afterlife Department of Affairs, typin' and fillin' out paperwork until their corpses rot down to bone n' dust. Good people, charitable types, they're at the top. They get to live in mansions and have their every need met. S' ironic, though, because eventually they turn into snobby shits from having their every whim catered to like that."

Lydia was silent for a long time before speaking, taking everything in. "I'm sorry if this is an insensitive question to ask, but how… How did you kill yourself? And for that matter, why aren't you still stuck working for Juno with all the other suicides?"

Betelgeuse sighed and rolled his head back, conjuring himself a beer. "It's not. People down here never shut the fuck up about how they died. I went out in the woods and swallowed some poisonous mushrooms. It was pretty fuckin' gruesome. I should've drowned myself or somethin', 'cause that shit took _hours_. First, there was intense pain and puking, then hallucinations coupled with fever. I went out sobbin' like a little girl n' lyin' in a pool of my own vomit."

Lydia laid her legs over his so that she was half-sitting in his lap and kissed his cheek, before tucking her head under his chin. "I'm sorry. That sounds awful."

He beamed down at her and wrapped the arm that had been around her shoulders around her waist so that he could pull her fully into his lap. She didn't protest. "I'm over it. Too many stiffs dwell on their death, it's pathetic. Anyway, I spent about fifty years playin' along, doin' what the old bitch told me to do. Took the first opportunity I had to get out. I'd been readin' up on undead perimeters behind her back. Turns out, if you change your mind halfway through your suicide, you can appeal to the powers that be for resentencing. That really pissed the old bitch off. I was her go-to errand boy at the time. They gave it to me, against Juno's advice, and moved me up one rung on the social ladder, so to speak. The rest is history, babe."

They finished their cigarettes in comfortable silence; Lydia snuggled up against his chest and lost in thought. He stood abruptly, causing her to fall onto her back on the couch with an "oomph!"

"Well? Do ya wanna sit here and boo-hoo about my death all day? Or do ya wanna go break some rules with me?"

Lydia furrowed her brows up at him from her place on his couch, a frown on her pretty face. "Am I gonna get in trouble for being here? I don't want Juno to be angry at me."

He just laughed at her. "Babe, Juno's been pissed at you ever since you said 'I do.' Nobody can get you in trouble." A dark look flashed across his face. "'Cept me, of course." This did little to ease Lydia's wariness. "C'mon, don't you have any dead relatives you'd like ta see or anythin'?"

She bit her lip in thought. "Well… My mom's dad died a few years before I was born. Heart attack. My grandma said he loved kids, always wanted grandchildren. It would be nice to meet him."

Her husband lifted her bridal style from the couch and spun in a half circle before setting her back down on her bare feet. "Then lets you n' me take a trip to Coronary Corner."


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sincerely apologize to any of my readers who actually speak Russian or French. I just used Google Translate for the non-English dialogue and it's entirely possible that some of these phrases were butchered in the process. There's an English translation in the author's note at the bottom of this chapter. I highly recommend opening this page in another tab, scrolling to the bottom, and using that for reference as you read along. Otherwise, this might be a very confusing chapter for you. Thank you for your continued support!

He'd dressed her warmly for the excursion; thick black leggings that didn't allow the wind to cut through them, leather gloves- when he magic'd them up for her they appeared underneath her ring and the ring adjusted size accordingly- and an incredibly soft white scarf that caressed her cheek like a warm fuzzy cat. The finishing touch was an extravagant gray pea coat that was lined with fur the color of snow. It looked like something that would cost an arm and a leg at the department store. "Is this real fur?" She'd asked, concerned. "No." He'd lied. It was arctic fox. She didn't need to know that. He had a reputation, after all. He couldn't take his living wife out on the town and show her off in anything but the best.

She was grateful for it once they reached Coronary Corner. The place was massive and eerily deserted. Skyscrapers obstructed the view of the neon sky completely. She could vaguely see that they were still being constructed up at the top, building ever higher and higher to make room for every new arrival. "This is where stiffs with heart-related deaths go. S'mostly old people, but they still get the occasional kid or middle-aged workaholic. What's grandpa's name, sugar?"

"Volkov. Alexander Volkov. That was my last name before my dad adopted me."

"Fuck," he said, grabbing her hand and starting off down the street, "you really are a commie." She shot him a dirty look. "Just because I'm Russian doesn't mean I'm a communist, _mu'dak_."

Betelgeuse stopped in his trek, returning her dirty look. "What did you just call me?"

Lydia grinned teasingly. "What? You've been around for over six-hundred years and haven't bothered to learn Russian?"

"You speak Russian?" He'd been assuming that she probably knew a little, because of her mom, but hadn't imagined that she was fluent.

"My first language is Russian." She burst into laughter pulling away from him to point an amused finger in his direction. "This is rich! Ya mogu skazat' chto ya khochu I vy ne bedete znat chto ya govoryu!" Her laughter doubled at his blank expression. The blankness twisted into annoyance and he grabbed her hand again, starting back up in the original direction. "Stop that."

"No eto tak veselo!"

"Startin' ta piss me off, Lyds." He could speak lots of languages; French, Spanish, Greek, Latin, etc. Hadn't gotten around to Russian yet, but it was at the top of his list now.

"Ili chto? Ya budu v bede?"

That was it. He pulled her into a dark alley in between two skyscrapers and pushed her up against a wall. He towered over her, growling in French. " _Si tu n'arrêtes pas tout de suite, je vais t' enlever ce legging et te baiser jusqu'à ce que tu ne puisse plus marcher droit pendant une semaine_." His cool breath was hissing in her ear by the time he was done. Goosebumps rose on her arms underneath the warm coat. She had no fucking idea what he'd just said, but it sounded threatening, and vaguely sexual if she knew him at all.

She looked up at him with big eyes, bottom lip trembling. "Okay. You made your point. I'll stop." His intimidating posture disappeared in an instant and he grinned down at her, planting a wet smooch on her cheek. "Good! Now let's go find gramps."

They stopped in front of a building that looked just like all of the rest of them. She wasn't sure how he could tell the difference, but there must have been some criteria for choosing this one. Maybe it was alphabetical. They stepped inside and the little old lady behind the front desk took one look at them before her eyes bugged and she scurried into a back room as fast as her decrepit legs could carry her. Lydia shot her husband a suspicious glare. "Why is that woman scared of you?"

She really had no idea who he was. Betelgeuse chuckled darkly and pulled her along with him into an elevator. "I've got a bit of a reputation down here, babe." He changed the subject before she could question him further. "Hey, wanna have elevator sex?" If looks could fucking kill he'd be floating around in the lost souls' room with all those other poor fucks. "Sheesh, don't get your panties in a twist. Or do. Whatever gets your rocks off." Before she had a chance to return with a biting retort of her own, he pressed a button and the elevator was flying upwards so quickly that her hair flew around her. She squeaked in surprise and wrapped her arms around him. He seemed to be perfectly fine, feet planted and checking his watch as if this were a particularly boring experience. Seconds later, the elevator stopped with a ding, the doors flew open, and they stepped out.

The floor the elevator dropped them on seemed to go on forever and ever. They started walking. There were no marks on the doors, no letters or numbers. As far as Lydia could tell they were all completely identical. After about five minutes of walking, he stopped in front of a door and presented it to her with a dramatic flourishing bow. Lydia hesitated before knocking. "Are you sure this is it? How can you tell?"

He leaned against the wall next to the door and dusted off his arms. "I'm sure. I can tell _because I just can_. Now knock on the door and say 'Hi' to your grandpa."

Lydia took a deep breath and knocked. After a moment, the door creaked open and a blue eye peeked out at her. It widened, the door flew open, and she was swept up into a hug by a handsome man with a head of thick black hair.

"Natalya!" He pulled back and Lydia got a better look at him. He had thick brows that served to make his already sharp gaze even more intense. She could see bits of herself in him; high cheekbones and the curve of his nose. He must've been in his early 40's when he'd died. His skin held a bluish tint and his cheeks, already sharp from his bone structure, were even further sunken in than they would have been naturally had he been alive. "Chto ty zdes' delayesh'? Ty slishkom molod! Podozhite…" She was too warm, her cheeks too pink. This couldn't be Alexander's daughter. "Ty ne moya doch'. Kto ty?"

Lydia's breath caught in her throat. This was so much more heart wrenching than she thought it would be. "Menya zovut Lydia Elisabeta Volkov. Ya doch' Natal'i. Vasha vnuchka."

Her grandfather looked like she'd just punched him in the gut. His trembling hand rose to her cheek, pulling away instantly when he felt that it was hot to the touch. "…Doch' Natal'i? Moya Natalya? Vy zhivy…"

Lydia smiled sweetly at the man and pulled his icy hand back to her cheek. "Da, dedushka." The man broke into blubbering tears and hugged her again. Lydia returned it heartily and felt hot tears of her own rolling down her cheeks.

Betelgeuse had made himself invisible as soon as her grandfather had opened the door. This was about _Lydia_ , after all, not him. Her mother's father had been dead long enough that he'd definitely already know who _he_ was by now. It wouldn't do to have the geezer terrified while he met his granddaughter for the first time. He stayed out in the hallway while Lydia was pulled in through the open doorway by the blubbering mess that was her grandfather. Betelgeuse could see Lydia in him. It annoyed him to no end that he couldn't be nosy and listen in on their foreign dialogue. Nothing for the poltergeist to do but haunt the barren hallway until she came out.

* * *

Hours later, Lydia emerged. She had a folded up piece of paper in her gloved hand and looked like she'd been crying. "Baby?" He was tangible again. She kissed him full on the mouth and pulled back before he knew what was happening. "Thank you. That was… Just, thank you."

Betelgeuse put his hands on her hips and pulled her in close, a soft smile curving his mouth. "Anytime. Got any more dead relatives you wanna visit while we're here?"

She shook her head, overcome with emotion. "No, no. I could use a bite to eat, though. I'm starving."

He clicked his tongue. "Nothin' for you to eat down here, sorry ta say. What'cha in the mood for? The world is your menu."

"I'm so tired, B. I don't think I can take any more trips around the world. Europe, zombies, the afterlife, fine antique Italian art, my dead grandfather… I think if you show me any more beautiful, amazing things my heart will explode. I kinda just wanna go home, order some Thai, and watch more _Walking Dead_ with you. Is that okay?" It was not lost on him that "multiple orgasms" had been left off of her list.

' _Awww_.' He'd overwhelmed his human. He threaded his fingers through the silky hair on either side of her head and planted a kiss on her that left her knees weak. "Of course that's okay."

With that, the corridor was empty once more.

* * *

 

"What was in that note?" Betelgeuse spoke through a mouth full of noodles. He and his wife were canoodled on her couch in the dark, the glow of the television the only light. Mandy and Nona were working again tonight, so they were alone.

Lydia swallowed her mouth full of green curry before answering. "Just a message for my grandmother. All the things he never got to tell her."

Betelgeuse snorted. "Typical."

She kicked him. "I think it's sweet. By the way…" Lydia sat up and set her food down, narrowing her honey eyes on him. "He was especially horrified to find out that you were my husband. Said that you were an ' _otvratitel'noye chudovishche'_ and that he feared for my life. It took a lot of convincing to get him to believe that you wouldn't hurt me. Are you ever going to tell me why everyone in the Neitherworld knows who you are and is scared of you?"

Betelgeuse didn't take his eyes off the tv and slurped more noodles into his mouth before answering, expressionless. "I don't think you wanna know, babe."

Lydia furrowed her brows, annoyed by his vagueness. "I think I do."

His food joined hers on the coffee table. He paused the show, and then slowly turned his head to look her in the eye. The intensity of his gaze almost made her regret pushing him for an answer. Almost. It was a long time before he spoke. "Nobody's more powerful than me. Not Juno, not the powers, _nobody_. I'm as close to a God as there is. If I wanted to I could make this whole town and everybody in it disappear off the face of the Earth. I'm not all powerful, but I'm as good as."

His wife was frozen and her eyes were wide, a real fear of him spiking inside of her for the first time. Betelgeuse shot across the couch and captured her wrists in his hands, pinning them above her head. He stuck his nose against her neck and inhaled deeply, her fear intoxicating and incredibly arousing to him.

"There. Is that the answer you wanted, baby?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> L: "Asshole."
> 
> L: "I can say anything I want and you won't have any idea what I'm saying!"
> 
> L: "But it's so much fun!"
> 
> L: "Or what? Will I be in trouble?"
> 
> B: "If you don't stop it right now I'm going to pull down those leggings and fuck you until you can't walk straight for a week."
> 
> A: "What are you doing here? You're too young! Wait…"
> 
> A: "You're not my daughter. Who are you?"
> 
> L: "My name is Lydia Elisabeta Volkov. I'm Natalya's daughter. Your granddaughter."
> 
> A: "… Natalya's daughter? My Natalya? You are alive…"
> 
> L: "Yes, grandpa."
> 
> L: "disgusting monster"


	25. Chapter 25

Betelgeuse was wrong. She wasn't an angel. She was a demonic succubus sent by some force unbeknownst even to his gratuitous knowledge, there to punish him for everything evil thing he'd ever done. He'd done a lot of bad, bad things. Deeds so sadistically heinous that if he told her of them in excruciating detail she'd probably never sleep a whole night through ever again. She was a damaged little blackbird dropped into his lap by a devil far worse than him; abused and neglected and utterly unafraid of him.

Until now.

Lydia had driven him to this, really. He hadn't wanted to frighten her, to tell her the truth of his being, but he'd been on a tight leash since the night she'd first allowed him the privilege of touching her soft, sweet skin so trustingly. She'd tormented him all damn day long. First, she'd stomped around her room in circles saying "Daddy" repeatedly, on the phone with her actual daddy, before soaking herself in zombie guts in a show of glory that George Romero could only dream of capturing on film. Then she'd had the gall to strip in front of him and show off her _brand_. That had almost been the last straw. Next, she called that ugly portrait he'd only stolen because he thought it was some funny shit he could look at when he occasionally went back to that piece of shit roadhouse "Beautiful", with stars in her eyes. It was maddening. It was enough to drive him to the brink.

She trembled in his hands now, so breakable, boiling hot blood rushing beneath the surface of her itty bitty tattooed wrists. "Until most recently, one of the few powers I didn't have was the ability to be _here;_ ta have fun with all you breathers and take in the sunlight."

Lydia's pulse fluttered like a hummingbird in his palm and her heart pounded clear as day in his ears in the silence of her humble abode. "Is that why you married me?"

"Yeah. And no." Tonight, she wore the gown of shadowy silk that he'd conjured for her the previous night. The night that she'd spilled her black little heart out to him. The night she'd let him peek into her soul and take a big, fat, tasty slice.

"Would you never hurt anyone ever again if I asked you not to?"

' _Evil communist witch_.' How could she ask that of him? He'd given her every little thing she asked for, even the things she didn't. There were so many ways he could have had her by now. He'd been so patient, so loving, and so generous with her. His grip tightened and she winced, but _still,_ even terrified of him- and he could just smell it on her- she let him keep touching her, ever his obedient mortal pet.

"Are you askin'?"

"No. I just don't want you to hurt anybody."

She so was so open and honest in his arms. She had no reason to lie to him. What's the point? He'd be around forever. Until he wasn't. Until he slipped up and wasn't there to stop a freak accident. Until the idea of spending another second with him became so unappealing to her that she slit her wrists and joined Carmen in the Waiting Room. That was the worst case scenario for both of them, right? He'd probably haunt her even then.

"You're frightening me." It was a plea, quietly murmured through trembling lips.

"Why? You've never been scared of me before. You should'a been. I'm a scary guy. I've done scary shit."

Lydia closed her eyes and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself, testing. "I want you to let go of me."

Betelgeuse grit his teeth and sneered down at her before releasing her wrists that were clenched in his bear-trap like grasp.

They were red.

Immense guilt crashed over him in waves. He'd left a mark on her that wasn't meant with love or affection. She'd probably bruise.

' _I'm fucking up_.' This was supposed to be the best day of her life. Here he was getting his jollies scaring her because she hadn't _sucked his cock yet_. She'd never known the touch of a man, excluding the soon-to-be-spending-the-rest-of-his-life-and/or-afterlife-in-horrible-agony piece of shit that had fractured his little mortal from the inside out. He had no right to expect anything from her. She hadn't asked him for any of the things he'd given her. They were offered up freely on his part.

"Lydia."

His hands supported him above her on the armrest. Her eyes were still shut and she breathed deeply, willing her fear away.

"Lydia, cmon don't be scared."

Her eyes snapped open and locked on him, freezing him in place. "Why? Isn't that what you wanted?" Her leg wrapped around his hips and pulled him down so that his erection was pressed against her thigh. "Isn't this how you wanted me; scared and at your mercy?"

"Yeah. Kinda. Not really."

Her leg went slack, releasing him. Her eyes were sad. "How do you want me then?"

He collapsed against her, using her chest as a pillow. He drew her wrists to his mouth, kissing the red marks and willing them to disappear. He had a lot of powers, but the ability to heal living flesh was not one of them. "Not like this."

Lydia had no response for him. She just lay slack and allowed him to tend to her, her gaze far away. "Please don't be scared of me, Lydia. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."

"Why me? You've been around for a long time. You've got all this power. You could've had anyone. I'm a pretty shitty choice. I'm fucked up on the inside."

Betelgeuse maneuvered her so that they were spooning, her head rested on his arm. "I already told you."

"Because you love me?" Her voice wavered. "That simple?"

"Yeah." He kissed her temple. "That simple."

* * *

She fell asleep in his arms, yet again, hours later. They'd not said another word to each other after the exchange. She just wordlessly grabbed the remote and started _The Walking Dead_ back up, too worn out for conversation. It was a big pill to swallow, after all. Lydia wasn't an idiot. She'd known that he was a force to be reckoned with. She just didn't know that he was the end all and be all of bad shit that was not to be fucked around with.

Lydia awoke alone. She half expected to find herself on the couch still wrapped up in his arms, or him to be on her bed with her. A pang of disappointment hit her, despite herself. She wasn't angry at him. What was the point? He hadn't done anything wrong, not really. In fact, he'd gone above and beyond to please her. It was terrifying. She felt like she was living in a twisted rom-com version of _Rosemary's Baby_.

She crawled out of bed, washed her face, brushed the taste of sleep out of her mouth, and dressed for the day. The numerous hickeys and bite marks on both sides of her neck were covered with concealer. Claire would have a field day with her if she got a look at those. ' _Claire_.' If Betelgeuse was ever there to see the platinum blonde socialite ridicule her, the girl would be a dead Barbie walking. Lydia pulled on some fishnets, black denim shorts, her favorite combat boots, and a red and green striped Freddy Krueger sweater she'd bought at the Walker Stalker Con the previous year.

Her laptop, camera, books, and binders were gathered into her backpack before she emerged from her bedroom. He was still awake and watching _The Walking Dead_.

"Oh, they're at the cannibal camp. This is my favorite part."

She didn't manage to scare him this time. He'd heard her rummaging around in her room. He didn't answer her. She sat next to him and hit her bong. Immediately, her tension eased. "I have classes today."

"Can I come?"

He'd been beating himself up all night long. How could he have been so careless with her as to leave marks on her? He'd murder someone just for looking at her the wrong way, and here he was manhandling her like she was some cheap undead whore.

Lydia frowned and set about making coffee. "It's boring. Just professors droning on and on about shit you probably already know and snot-nosed college kids taking notes. Besides, it's not like I can stop you if you decide you wanna stalk me to class."

"Yeah, but there's no fun in that. C'mon, I wanna see what they're teachin' you; make sure you're gettin' a proper education."

Lydia laughed out loud and passed him his cup. "My father pays seventy-thousand dollars a year to make sure that I'm getting a proper education. He doesn't need your help."

The blistering black liquid was down in one, long drawn out gulp. Lydia had seen him do this enough times now that she didn't question it. "Daddy sure is eager to buy your love, ain't he?" Like Betelgeuse had any room to talk shit.

Lydia shrugged. "I dunno if this is because he's trying to buy my love or because of status. All of his friends' kids go to nice schools, like Harvard and Yale. He probably gets enough shit from them because of me. It would just be another mark on his permanent record if I enrolled in some cheap community college. I didn't even want to go to college, really. I think the whole thing's a scam. You pay out loads of money just to get a degree to get a job to pay off the loans you took out so you could get a degree in the first place. It's a vicious cycle. I'd be just fine without a degree. I've already had my work published."

"Oh, yeah?" He raised an eyebrow her way.

"Yeah." She took a framed magazine print off of the wall and held it up for his scrutiny. It was a photo of Mandy, done up like a model, looking into a mirror, hand touching the glass, but her reflection was that of her own rotting corpse. In tiny white print at the bottom of the photograph were the words "Photographer: Lydia Deetz." "Did the makeup myself. This was my first paid submission. This is how I afford to smoke, drink, and buy your take out."

"Not bad, kid. I like it. You know you don't have to do any of this shit, right? Workin' n' goin' ta college n' payin' for shit?"

"I know. I'm not going to just float through life being your sugar baby, though."

Betelgeuse grinned, juicing the framed photo in his hand back to its place on the wall. "Why not? I wanna be your sugar daddy. You'd look real nice dressed up in nothin' but diamonds."

Lydia finished her coffee and took another hit off the bong. "Because that's not who I am. If you wanted a girl like that, you should've married Claire Brewster. She'd be more than happy to be your sugar baby." She grimaced when he pulled a beetle out of one of his pockets and swallowed it whole. "On second thought, maybe not."

" _So_? Can I go ta school with you? Ain't shit to do around here but torture the cat, watch tv, and wait for you ta come home. I feel like a neglected housewife."

Lydia shot him a dirty look as she stood and pulled her backpack over her shoulder. "You leave my cat alone." She came to stand before him, arms crossed. "You can come. On one condition."

He made a show of crossing one of his legs over the other and lacing his hands together, looking up at her like he'd never done anything wrong in his entire life. "I'm listenin'."

"You can't hurt anyone. No one. I don't care what they do."

The illusion broke. "But, _Lydiaaaa_ …"

"Nope! That's it! No negotiations!" She turned to leave without him, hand twisting the brass knob.

"FINE! You win!" He followed after her and spun her around so that her back was pressed against the door. "But I want somethin' from you…"

She looked up at him suspiciously. Lydia had come to be unintimidated by his superior height. What could he possibly want from her, aside from sexual favors? She doubted he'd so crassly ask her for that. If that was all he'd wanted he'd have had it by now. "What do you want?"

Betelgeuse licked his hand and slicked back his hair, to no avail. He put on his best, most charming smile and took her ring-bearing hand in his to kiss. "I wanna take you out on a date."

Her eyebrows furrowed and she glanced over at their leftover take-out, still sitting on the coffee table. "Haven't you been taking me on dates?"

He scoffed, insulted, and his hands dropped to her hips. "Baby, if I'd taken you on a date, you'd know it. We've just been foolin' around."

Lydia raised an unimpressed brow in his direction and opened the door behind her. He followed her down to her Sedan as she lit a cigarette.

"Sure. Fuck it. Why not? Let's go on a date."


	26. Chapter 26

He should've stayed home. It would've been easier than this. Men stared at her everywhere they went, and she just walked on, completely oblivious. Their eyes ate up the pale flesh of her thighs and her nipples as they poked through the thin material of her sweater in the air conditioned room- he'd gotten up close and personal with her enough times to know that she didn't bother with bras. The little boys she went to school with were all cowards, though. None dared to actually approach her. It had taken a great deal of restraint to keep his promise to her.

"You know all these pricks wanna fuck you, right?"

Lydia glanced sideways at him from her notes. She didn't speak. They were in class and she was seated near the front. There were two to three empty seats around her in every direction. No one had the balls to sit next to her. She wrote something down on a blank sheet and angled it inconspicuously so that he could read it. ' _What are you talking about_?' Her handwriting was neat and tiny, unlike his chicken scratch. Calligraphy wasn't exactly at the top of his list of priorities, after all.

"I'm talkin' about all these horny little fucks. You haven't seen em' starin'?"

She paused what she was doing and looked around the room. She couldn't see anyone staring. "No, look at your professor. He's starin' at your tits right now."

She did. Her eyes trained on Professor Johnson right as he lowered his gaze back to whatever book he'd been reading. ' _He's_ _married_.' She underlined "married" three times and shot him a look. ' _And he's about 100 years old. He has grandchildren older than me. He wouldn't._ '

Betelgeuse fell onto the floor in his laughter. It took a lot of concentration not to kick him and make herself look crazy for attacking the thin air. "You're so _naïve_! _Of course, he would_! And then he'd go home and stick it to his old lady all the while thinkin' all about _yooouuu_ …"

Lydia furiously scribbled something down on the sheet of paper she'd been using to communicate with him. He floated back up to read it. ' _Would you? Fantasize about somebody else while fucking me_?' It was easier for her to write something like that down than to actually say those words out loud to him. Betelgeuse smirked and scooted his desk inches closer to hers; causing several of her fellow students to stare at her like she had two heads. He rested his head in his hands and whispered in her ear. "Never. Worried?"

She glowered and stomped down the urge to elbow him. " _No_ ," she whispered, forgetting herself. Before she had a chance to shoot him a dirty look or scribble some biting words for him down in her notebook, Professor Johnson stood.

"Okay, class! That's it for today; I'll see you all next week. You are dismissed."

Lydia quickly gathered her things and darted through the crowd of students to get to the parking lot. She didn't bother to check and see if he was following her. So single-minded in her determination to get out of the crowd of people and be alone again- not really, though- was she that she barreled right into someone, knocking them both to the ground.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry-" The apology died on her lips when she saw who it was she'd knocked over.

"Like, oh my GAWD, _Deetz_! How dare you, like, touch me!" Claire's cronies quickly helped her to her feet. A little bit of her coffee had spilled onto her blouse. She would have been a stunning woman, were it not for the ugly sneer twisting her delicate features. Claire Brewster had medium-length bleached platinum blonde hair that today was styled immaculately into soft curls. Her eyes were a crystal clear blue, and her skin was dark and sun-kissed from years of vacationing on her Daddy's private island. Today, she wore Chanel; a pale pink pencil skirt paired with a crisp white button up- which was currently soiled with a brown stain about the size of a quarter. Lydia scrambled her books and notes together as Claire continued to berate her.

"If you had like, broken my ankle or like, _God forbid_ , a NAIL my Daddy would have sued your Daddy for, like every last penny! You're like, so freaking lucky that all you did was spill my like, coffee _you little roach_."

"Claire, stop!" Dread for Claire was pooling inside of Lydia's gut. The stupid girl didn't know what she was doing. Lydia stood without help from anyone, clutching her books to her chest and taking a wary step towards her bully. "You have to-"

"Who do you like, think you ARE, you _freak_? I don't have to, like, do anything."

Lydia couldn't see her husband anywhere, but he must've still been around. The school's air conditioning wasn't powerful enough to make it _that_ cold.

"No, Claire, you don't understand-"

"No, _Lydia_ , YOU don't, like, understand. You-" Before Claire could continue her scolding of Lydia, her Starbucks Frappuccino spontaneously exploded in her hand. It was a big explosion, too. The plastic cup had been less than half full when they'd run into each other. Claire was dripping with way more coffee than should have been possible. She was frozen, mortified, eyes wide as her shaking hand gripped the crumpled bit of plastic. The little stain she'd been going on about was now encompassing over half of her expensive top, and her hair was flat now, sticky and dripping with foam.

Lydia started to laugh, despite herself. It started as a disbelieving gasp, and then evolved into full blown gut-busting, pointing and laughing guffaws. Claire screamed an awful high-pitched scream, throwing all of her things to the ground and running off in the direction of a nearby Ladies' Room. Her cronies gathered the things that she'd thrown down in her humiliation and ran after her without sparing Lydia a second glance. Lydia gathered herself and made her way to her car at a more leisurely pace, still shaking with the occasional giggle. Betelgeuse reappeared in her passenger seat once she started the car.

"That was beautiful, B. It really, really was."

"Please let me kill her."

Lydia's mirth fell away. "Absolutely not. If you kill her, I will never forgive you."

He laid his head in her lap and stuck his legs out the window, looking up at her while she drove. The center console had yet to be put back down since the night he'd confessed his love for her. "Pleeeaaase! Please, please, please! I'll make it quick!"

"Nope." It was Lydia lighting a cigarette for him and placing it between his lips this time. "Despite what you seem to think, I _am_ your keeper. With great power comes great responsibility, B. I can't have you killing everyone who gives me a hard time."

He sat up and threw his feet up onto the dashboard, glowering out the window. "Says you. Thanks for the lesson in morality, Mary Jane."

Lydia threw him a sugary smile and fluttered her bambi eyes at him, placing a warm hand on his knee. "You're welcome, Beetle-Man. Thank you for keeping your promise. I noticed. I know you could've done a whole lot worse than some spilled coffee."

Betelgeuse shot her a sideways crooked smirk and blew a cloud of smoke out the window. "No problem, babe."

* * *

Mandy practically jumped her when she entered their apartment. "Lydia! Did you hear? About Claire? It's EVERYWHERE! Oh, hey B." Nona was hunched forward in the recliner, playing _Diablo III_ furiously. She was unconcerned with Lydia and her poltergeist's arrival. Lydia dropped her bag by the front door and relaxed back into the couch, taking a generous rip off of her already packed bong. Mya must have been giving Nona the hookup, because there was a ridiculously fat bag of marijuana resting on the coffee table that was way too big to be hers.

"Oh, I know. I was there. It was glorious. You can thank him for that."

Betelgeuse took the spot next to Lydia before Mandy had a chance to. He threw his legs up on the coffee table, careful to avoid the expensive illicit materials, and wrapped an arm around Lydia's shoulders. "All in a day's work, no thanks necessary."

"No, Lydia, look at this!" Mandy stuck herself in between them over the back of the couch, phone in hand. It was playing a video of a sniveling, red-faced, coffee-soaked Claire crying into a stuffed animal on a pink bed and speaking unintelligibly. Lydia frowned sympathetically.

"This only happened about half an hour ago. How is there already a video on the internet? And who took it? That looks like her bedroom."

Mandy dropped the phone into Lydia's lap. "Jessica freakin' Sherman."

Her mouth fell open as Nona spoke, grabbing for the bong over Betelgeuse's lap. "Justice is beautiful." There was an evil smirk curling her full lips.

Lydia furrowed her brows in pity. "Jesus. That's so cruel. I mean, Claire definitely had it coming, but _fuck_ …"

"Look," Betelgeuse began, watching the video of the crying Claire with a sick glee, "I hate to involve myself in schoolgirl gossip, but I gotta know; what're you gals goin' on about?"

"Jessica Sherman," Mandy started after taking a hit from the bong Nona passed her way and handing it to Lydia, "Is Claire's best friend. They grew up together, went on camping trips and on cruises with each other's families, the whole shebang. Rumor has it she's been sleeping with Claire's fiancé. But I mean, Josh has been fucking everyone. Claire's super in denial."

"I can promise you this, ladies," Nona had started up the game again and her eyes were trained on the television, "You will never have to worry about me sleeping with any of your men."

"Ha. Ha." Lydia took her turn. Mandy took a seat on Betelgeuse's right side, so that he was sandwiched between the two girls. Nona slid Lydia a suspicious sideways glance before turning her gaze back to the television. "Speaking of men and the women that they belong to… You two got out of here awfully fast yesterday." Lydia froze. Betelgeuse cackled. Mandy perked up.

"That reminds me! Lydia, B; I have a very serious question to ask you two." They both turned their heads to her, apprehensive. "Spring, Summer, Autumn, or Winter?" They both raised a blank, inquisitive eyebrow. "For the wedding!" Lydia sputtered, unable to grasp words. Betelgeuse remained calm but scowled.

"The fuck are you talkin' 'bout blondie? Lyds and I are already hitched."

Mandy scoffed and waved him off. "That doesn't count. You didn't have a best man, a maid of honor, a flower girl, nothing! And from what I was told that dress was hideous." Betelgeuse turned on Lydia, whose speech still failed her. "What the hell, babes? You told em' your wedding dress was ugly?"

"What- I- _it was_! You can't seriously tell me you thought that monstrosity looked good on me!"

He grinned and pulled her closer. "Yeah, I did. You looked like a bloody lil' cupcake." It suited her at the time, with her flat chest and boyish hips. She looked like a woman, now.

"Besides," Lydia continued, red-faced and exasperated, "there will be no wedding! I don't know why we're even talking about this!"

Mandy dropped to the floor and crawled over Betelgeuse's feet, stopping on her knees before Lydia to plead her case. "Oh, Lydia please, please, please! You're the only chance I'm ever going to get at being a bridesmaid! I have three brothers! Nona's a lesbian! C'mon, all you have to do is wear a pretty dress and let me cry all over you!"

Lydia stood, scowling down at the begging Mandy. "I am NOT getting married _twice_ just so that you can be a bridesmaid!

Betelgeuse pulled Lydia down into his lap so that one arm was holding up her legs and the other was around her back. He grinned a cocky smile down at her. "You don't wanna get married again, honey? I could do it up nice this time. Chucky could give you away to me, all proper n' shit."

Nona rolled her eyes. "Come on, Lydia, just humor the girl. You're not getting any more married than you already are."

Lydia glared and crossed her arms. "Don't either of you encourage her! And you! If you actually think that my father would ever willingly give me over to you, you're bat-shit fucking insane. Oh. Wait. Excuse me, I forgot who I was talking to. Put me down."

"Whatever you say, sugar." She fell through his arms. Literally. Her backside bounced on his lap and her head hit the cushion with a soft thump. She glared up at him, hair askew around her, and stood with a huff. "I hate you all. I'm going to edit some photos. Good evening. _Betelgeuse_. _Coco_. _Diamond_." The words dripped with venom. She grabbed her backpack and retreated to her room, closing and locking the door behind her while Betelgeuse began ridiculing her put on the spot friends. She smirked cruelly to herself as she opened her laptop. It was times like this that she was grateful for him. The two girls had a bad habit of ganging up on her and teasing her relentlessly, all in good fun of course. It was about time they got a dose of their own medicine. Betelgeuse would have a time of trying to embarrass Nona, though. The English girl wasn't so easily flustered.

It wasn't long, maybe an hour, before Lydia felt the tell-tale drop of temperature in her room. She spoke without lifting her gaze from the screen. "Bored of planning our wedding?" She went to check for the reflection of him lying in her bed, where she knew he would be, and felt stupid when she didn't see anything. Of course, he didn't have a reflection. The Maitlands didn't. She looked over her shoulder instead.

"I don't see why you're so opposed to the idea. _I think it's sweet_." He imitated her voice perfectly, though this time the words dripped with much more sugar than how she'd originally spoken them.

"It's an abomination."

"You wound me."

There was comfortable silence for a while as Lydia worked on her photos. Satisfied that all of the undesirables had been sorted out of the bunch, she ran a mass action in Photoshop that would adjust the brightness, saturation, and contrast of each photo individually all at once. After that, they'd be ready to be sent to her publisher. She sat back in her chair from where she'd been hunched over for the last hour and stretched, savoring the pop in her spine. Suddenly, there was a cold hand on each of her shoulders and she was staring up at her husband.

"You ready ta go on that date?"

Her hands fell limply to her sides.

"You wanted to do that tonight? I'm not ready."

"Let me worry 'bout that."

"Where do you even want to go?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out."

"Oh. Well. Okay. Let's go."

Betelgeuse pulled Lydia from her desk chair by one hand and spun her around once in a circle before dipping her down so low that her hair brushed the ground. He kissed her the way he'd kissed her on their wedding night; fierce and unforgiving. When he finally pulled away, and she felt the wind of open air hit her face, Lydia opened her eyes and screamed.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's more foreign dialogue in this chapter, and as with the last chapter that included foreign text, I've provided a translation at the bottom. It's not a necessity with this one, though, so you can read through without the translation and still know what's going on. Enjoy!

"Geez, if I'd known _that_ was all it would take ta get a scream outta ya, I'd have done this a long time ago."

He wasn't Betelgeuse anymore! This person was alive… and handsome! Not that her husband wasn't attractive to her, in his own special way, but this was a man that Mandy would have given a discount at the club if you know what I mean. This man had thick, wavy dark blonde hair and tanned skin, without a hint of death in its complexion. There was a becoming dusting of five o'clock shadow across his cheeks and neck. No deep, dark shadows surrounded this man's intense eyes- the eyes of her lover. He wore an expensive looking pure black suit accompanied by a blood-red tie.

"…Betelgeuse?"

The sharp look in his jade eyes was the same. The sardonic twist of his lips was identical to her poltergeist's. His eyebrows were just as fiercely angled. She raised a tentative hand to his cheek, stopping halfway when she saw that her hand was adorned with black velvet opera length gloves that stopped just below the tattoos on her biceps.

"That's my name, don't wear it out. I knew you'd look damn fine draped in diamonds."

He'd made good on his half-promise. Lydia looked down at herself. It was night time, wherever they were, and the streetlamps reflected brilliantly off of her with every minute move she made. She wore a strapless gown with a sweetheart neckline that seemed to be woven with fine silver thread and diamonds. It stayed plastered to her like a second skin and from the cool breeze that caressed her spine she could tell that it was completely backless. Her hair was curled into ringlets at the ends. A velvet-clad hand smoothed over the diamonds disbelievingly.

"B… This is too much… I can't wear this…"

"Nonsense! I'm takin' my wife on a date, I'm gonna make sure she's the best lookin' broad in the room."

He grabbed her hand and started off down the alley they'd apparated in the middle of. He may have looked like an ordinary mortal, but his skin still held the telling chill of death. Her jaw dropped once more when they emerged from the alley and she took in the sight before her.

"That's… We're not… Are we?"

The Eiffel Tower was illuminated with golden lights with the fall of night. Its reflection was clear in the River Seine.

"Ya really gotta ask?"

Lydia followed along beside him in a daze. She'd been expecting… Well, she wasn't sure exactly what to expect. Paris, France was not on the list. She noticed that, for the first time, other people noticed him too. ' _Good_.' So his illusion wasn't for her benefit. It was for all the other mortals. Not that she didn't appreciate how handsome he was in his human skin; it was just disconcerting to see him like that. She preferred him the way that she knew him already. This person was a wolf in sheep's clothing.

He continued pulling her along, slower than he usually did when he was in a rush, to make up for her lagging steps. He'd dressed her in heels that could've come straight out of Cinderella. They finally stopped before a bistro with the words _Le Cinq_ on the sign above the entryway. Ever the gentleman, he opened the door for her and placed a cold hand on the small of her back as they stepped through together.

Delicious smells wrapped around them as they entered. The host, a thin man with a pencil mustache, greeted them enthusiastically in French. Betelgeuse responded, also in French, and passed the man some neatly folded bills from inside his pocket.

"Merci," Lydia spoke to the man with a sweet smile on her face, one of the few French words she knew, as he led them to an isolated back room that was illuminated by candlelight.

"You're accent!" The man spoke, eyebrows rising in surprise, "Eeet eez… atrocious! You are American, non?"

Lydia flushed brightly under the candlelight and laughed. "Yes! I'm embarrassed that you could tell from only one word. My first language is Russian. Though, French is next on my list of languages to learn." She shot a knowing glance in Betelgeuse's direction.

"Oui! Magnifique! French eet eez zee language of _love_!" The waiter took her gloved hand and kissed her knuckles. "A _belle rose_ such as you… tsk tsk tsk would be tragedy to never learn French!" Lydia giggled, embarrassed, as the eccentric host fawned over her. Betelgeuse seethed.

" _Laisser_. Et envoyez le serveur. Nous sommmes prets a commander."

Whatever he'd said caused the host to make a hasty retreat back to the front room. Lydia frowned. "Why did you do that? He was just being nice." She opened her menu, only for her frown to deepen in confusion. It was entirely in French. Betelgeuse snorted and snatched the menu out of her hand.

"If by 'nice' ya mean lookin' for an excuse to look down your dress, then yeah. He was bein' real nice."

Lydia laid her hands down flat on the table and pursed her lips. "You are delusional. Not everyone wants to fuck me, you know."

He lit a conjured cigarette for each of them and Lydia took it with mild confusion, before remembering that this was France, not the U.S. There weren't any smoking bans in restaurants here. "No, babe, I'm realistic. And you're naïve."

Before she could continue arguing the point the waiter came to take their order. Betelgeuse ordered for them in perfect strings of gravelly French, speaking so quickly that she couldn't even begin to try and decipher it. Towards the end of his speech, he passed the man some more neatly folded bills.

"Un peu de musique pour la dame, hein? Je vous paie de bons fonds."

The waiter shook her husband's hand vigorously, enthusiastically agreeing with whatever it was he'd just said. Lydia began laughing in earnest when moments later a finely dressed man joined them in the back room, playing a beautiful, almost morose, song on a violin. Their waiter followed behind the violinist, carting a bottle of chilled champagne.

"Why did you want to do this again?" Lydia laughed as the cork was popped and a glass of bubbly was poured out for her and her lover. "Seems a little over the top, even for you. I'd go as far as to call this cheesy."

"I wasn't gonna go this big, at first. Was just gonna take you on a picnic or to the Neitherworld Zoo or some shit." Lydia's eyes widened at the possibilities that a Neitherworldian Zoo represented. "But then you looked at that fuckin' takeout like you thought sittin' on your couch, watchin' tv, and eatin' cheap Chinese food was a fuckin' date. Broke my heart. I had to set an example."

Lydia's foot traced his ankle underneath the table and she reached across the top to take his hand into her velvet grasp, rosy-cheeked and breathtaking. "You don't have to do all these things. You don't owe me anything. I'm already yours." It was the first time she'd ever made such an admission out loud. Already all of his planning was paying off. Those three words made it all worth it. That was as close to an "I love you" as he might ever get.

"Yeah. I do."

His hand tightened around hers. She deserved it all and more. He'd stolen her mortality from her, after all, in his selfish trek to freedom. All the riches in this life and the next couldn't make up for that. He'd swooped in, blinded by infatuation for her, and left her a bloody seizing mess in the wake of his selfish ignorance. The guilt from almost killing her might never leave him. Betelgeuse released her hand and leaned back in his chair, downing his flute of champagne in one go.

"Besides, I got more in mind for you tonight than just dinner. You can keep your panties on… for now." He winked lasciviously and the foot that had been so sweetly caressing his ankle under the table kicked him.

* * *

They ate course after course of delicacies; a plate of fine cheeses, escargot- Lydia had been hesitant to try that one, but he eventually convinced her to spread some of the snail's innards on a crust of baguette-, caviar, and the main course was Lobster Thermidor garnished with gruyere. Dessert was a classic French cheesecake- richer, fluffier, and more mouse-like than the New York style cheesecakes she'd had before- with a tart raspberry ganache. The violinist had played along beautifully throughout the meal setting a romantic, whimsical tone for the evening.

Lydia only made it about three bites into her slice of cheesecake before setting her fork down and leaning back in her chair. "I'm stuffed. I couldn't eat another bite." Her head swam pleasantly under the influence of the champagne. The alcohol content of the expensive bottle had been low enough that she allowed herself to sip down three flutes of it and still would not classify herself as intoxicated; just pleasantly tipsy, giggly, warm, and ready to converse.

Betelgeuse had scarfed down everything laid out in front of him like a man starved. In truth, the violinist was disgusted by the wealthy man's table manners, but he was a true professional and did not allow his disdain to show through as he played. It was a mystery to the musician what a woman as beautiful as his date was doing in the company of such an uncouth barbarian. It must be the money. _Le Cinq_ was not an establishment frequented by the working class.

"B?"

Betelgeuse looked up from where he'd been loudly slurping out the guts of the last unlucky snail.

"Let's get out of here. You look good like this, don't get me wrong, but… _it's just too creepy_. I miss the old you."

Her husband cackled, slamming his fist down on the table so that their china shuddered and clinked together. The violinist, imperceptibly, winced.

"I should'a known, you little freak you! Okay, kitten, let's blow this joint." He wiped off whatever food was on his face onto the sleeve of his expensive suit, earning another grimace from the violinist, dropped a thick stack of euros onto the table, stood and offered Lydia his hand. She took it. As soon as the velvet of her glove touched his tanned, cold skin they disappeared.

The violinist stopped playing abruptly and wiped his eyes furiously, hardly believing what he'd just seen. The rude man and his exquisite date were gone! Into thin air! It was magic!

* * *

The couple reappeared in a busy street somewhere in the Neitherworld. She knew it was the Neitherworld, and not an above city, because of the bright orange shade of the sky, and the fact that the people surrounding them were clearly not living. Their skin was tinted blue, and many of them still bore the marks of their deaths. As soon as their feet touched the ground, people scrambled. They ran, screaming, into various buildings and alleyways, trying desperately to get away.

"Wait!" Lydia called out, frowning and hugging herself as the icy chill of the supernatural domain started to seep into her skin. Before she had a chance to complain, she found herself draped in a black, fur-lined cloak, complete with a hood. She tugged the hood up over her head and pulled her hair out so that it hung over her shoulders in two equal parts. The cloak worked beautifully at keeping the cold out. She turned to Betelgeuse, relieved to see that he was back to himself in the black and white striped suit that she'd become accustomed to.

She smiled at the sight, the terrified screams of the dead forgotten. "That's better. You looked like you could've been in my father's fraternity." Betelgeuse sneered at the simile and tugged her into a nearby structure. It looked to be a theater of some sort. "That's the meanest thing you've ever said to me, babe."

"I know these people are scared of you because, you know, you're powerful n' stuff… But what the fuck was that about? What did you _do_?"

People continued to scramble away from them as they made their way up a red, crushed velvet staircase. None dared to say anything against him or her. They just avoided his path like the plague. Betelgeuse smirked a slimy smirk and pulled her through a curtained archway. It led out onto a balcony overlooking a coliseum style arena. "A lot." He answered, purposefully vague.

Her husband pulled her into his lap on the luxurious couch that the box offered. Below them sat more dead people, all of them dressed to the nines, whispering excitedly to one another as the lights around the stage darkened. The ghosts below were unaware of the presence of the poltergeist and his wife in the upper chambers, and thus unaffected.

"What is this?" Lydia whispered, kicking off her glass heels and getting comfortable in his lap. What he said next had her slapping her hands over her mouth to reign in squeals of excitement.

"Macbeth. Starrin' Elizabeth Taylor and Laurence Olivier, directed by Sir William Shakespeare."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> B: "Leave. And send the waiter. We're ready to order."
> 
> B: "How about a little music for the lady, huh? I'm paying you assholes good money."


	28. Chapter 28

She hadn't stayed seated in his lap for very long. The majority of the performance had Lydia standing and gripping the banister for purchase as she bent herself over it in an attempt to get a closer look at the marvelous spectacle. He'd had to pull her back more than once, fearing that she'd lose herself and topple right over the edge. There wasn't a single member of the cast, down to the chorus, that wasn't a decorated well-known deceased celebrity. The bard wouldn't have anyone less than the best for his shows, after all. After Betelgeuse had disclosed the initial details of the performance to his wife she'd demanded a program, too fascinated to be bothered with her usual prim and proper manners. When the stage lights had gone out, signaling the end of the show, she'd shouted her "Bravas" and "Bravos" more loudly than anyone in attendance, clapping her tiny hands together until her wrists hurt. It was so beautiful to watch her, it almost hurt. Elizabeth Taylor glamoured to appear the way she had in her glory days- as all of the actors had been- garbed in the most expensive Neitherworld fineries available for the role of Lady Macbeth, paled in comparison to his Lydia.

The show was over, now. They walked at a leisurely pace down the street, Lydia skipping in circles around him, recounting all of her favorite parts and gushing over the performers. Stiffs still screamed and scurried away from them, but Lydia paid them no mind anymore. He'd offered to take her backstage to get autographs, but she'd declined- didn't want him to scare them. Betelgeuse was tempted to go get her some autographs, anyway. They'd for sure sign a stupid piece of paper for him, no questions asked.

"Oh, B, it was perfect! Absolutely perfect! Did you see the three witches? On actual flying broomsticks! Did you see?"

"I saw, baby."

" _Of course you did_ , they were magnificent! Grace Kelly! Marilyn Monroe! Audrey FREAKIN' Hepburn! I'm never going to be able to see Macbeth in a normal theater ever again! It just won't ever be as good as that!"

She stopped, breathing hard, and leaned against a brick wall. She let her hood fall down so that she could get some air. The chill of the Neitherworld was pleasant right now, her heart pounding her blood furiously.

"I still don't understand why you would ever want to leave this place. I'd give up weather and trees forever if this is what I got in exchange. All of the greatest minds that ever existed in one place, where they can all collaborate and create art and just BE! Why would you ever want to go anywhere as boring as up there"- Lydia lifted her head so that the bright orange sky shone down on her enraptured features- "when you could be here?"

He was leaning against the wall next to her, arms crossed. "You don't know what you're talkin' about, Lyds. You know how big the Earth is?"

She turned her face from the sunless sky to look up at his. "Yeah. So?"

"So," he began, lighting them both cigarettes, "the Neitherworld is so fuckin' big that nobody knows where it ends or where it begins. This little theater on this little street is just one small corner of the afterlife. You noticed how everybody in the audience was dressed up like their shit don't stink?"

Lydia looked down at her extravagant diamond threaded gown and fur cloak before looking back up at him, eyebrows furrowed. He nudged her playfully.

"That's different. The look suits you. Anyway, shows like that are reserved for those charitable types I was tellin' ya 'bout yesterday. _I'm_ not technically allowed to go. Neither are you, legally speaking, but ain't nobody's 'bout to do shit to stop us. Liz Taylor, and Billy, and all those starlets… They're doomed to perform forever. Every second of every minute of every hour for the rest of eternity will be spent rehearsing some spectacular shit-show circus for the 'good people'. There's always a catch down here, babes. Everythin's just one big punchline to a joke you didn't even realize you were telling."

For the second time in twenty-four hours, he regretted telling her the truth. Her face fell and the stars that had lit her big honey eyes up so brilliantly dimmed. It was a necessary evil, though. She was beginning to romanticize this hell hole. If that feeling continued to fester in her she might do something stupid. It was time to give her a distraction. Without giving her a chance to respond to the cold hard truth he'd just dished out, he grabbed her and spun her around so that she was facing him. Both of his hands slid down from her hips, each one grabbing a handful of diamond encrusted ass to pull her up close so that she was straddling his thigh. And then his mouth was on hers.

There was no hesitation in her this time around. She instantly melted into the kiss, her arms emerging from beneath the cloak to wrap around his neck and pull him closer. The chill of the Neitherworldian current and his cool flesh were warded off by the heat building within her. It was her, not him, whose tongue first emerged to tangle with his. It was her grinding down on the thigh he'd taken the initiative to pull her against. It was her fisting her hands in his wiry hair so that the idle limbs had something, anything to hold on to. He may have started it, but this was Lydia's show.

Eventually, they had to part so that she could breathe, and breathe she did. Heaving, gasping breaths that felt like a furnace against his undead flesh. "Do you wanna go home tonight?"

"No." Again, not a hint of hesitation.

"Are you sure?" He had to be positive. There couldn't be any regrets.

"Yes."

"Where do you wanna go?"

"Anywhere. Just take me."

And he did.

* * *

She stumbled on the landing, as always. He steadied her. And then they were on each other again. He'd taken her to the honeymoon suite of the _Oberoi Rajvilas_ in Jaipur, India. It was hot and humid here, and this room was vacant for the night. The suite took up the entire top floor, and the walls in the bedroom were almost entirely vacant. In their place were screens and billowing drapes that allowed for the surrounding jungle to be seen for miles and miles around. The caws of exotic birds provided a soundtrack to their tryst. A single night in this particular room would cost your average every day Joe Blow fifty-thousand dollars a night. For the squatters, it was free.

The knot that held her cloak together was untied and it was forgotten on the ground. She was thrown onto the larger than life bed and he straddled her. One at a time, he removed her gloves. She was thankful for it. The sweltering heat, among other things, made her pale flesh slick with sweat. That and she couldn't quite wrap her head around the magic that allowed her large ring to adjust around her finger every time she wore gloves. "Are you ready for me, little girl?"

She pulled him down viciously by his tie and bit his bottom lip. If he had any blood it would have been shed. "Stop asking stupid questions and just fuck me, you egomaniac."

So that's how she wanted it, huh? "Slow your roll, princess. And keep still." The switchblade that had been used to slowly torture Noah Thomas to death emerged from one of his many bottomless pockets. Lydia's dress was not a dress that was designed to come off with anything other than magic or a sharp, pointy object. He tugged up her neckline and started to slice down. She jumped. "My dress!" He pushed her back down roughly, annoyed that she'd almost made him cut her over something as stupid as a fucking dress. "I said to stay fucking still! I'll getcha a new one…"

He started slicing again, slowly and precisely. He did not allow his eyes to travel up to her perfect breasts, not yet. Not while he held such a dangerous, sharp instrument this close to her flawless skin. After the excruciating process was completed her glass slippers were removed, one at a time. Yeah, he could've just juiced her clothes off. But where's the fun in that? It's about the journey, after all, not the destination. Soon, she was bare before him again.

He'd been around for a long time. He'd been with a lot of women and seen a lot of erotic sights. They were nothing compared to this. Beautiful was a poor word to describe her. She was so much more than that. Moonlight illuminated her from every angle. The sheets were white satin and stray diamonds from her ruined gown fanned around her. They gleamed and sparkled, caught up in her curled hair, and made it appear as though she were lying on a cloud in a bed of stars. Like an angel, or better yet a Goddess. Better than anything or anyone he'd ever had or would have in his never-ending existence. And what did his ethereal Goddess demand of him for tribute?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Just to turn her over and fuck her like a bitch in heat.

Lydia was privilege to a different sight altogether. He was hunched over her, feet planted on the floor and hands fisted in the sheets next to her knees. Shadows obscured his face, but she could see how his muscles strained as he gripped the satin cloth. Much of the filth that he'd amassed over his great many years had been washed away in their shared shower the previous day, but not all of it. His wild hair was still matted in places. Traces of moss still grew up his neck from the collar of his suit. She didn't care. She'd tasted him there. It was like licking a freshly cut blade of grass. She probably looked a little bit like him on the inside. Most people probably did. He wasn't a coward like most people, though. He wore his soul like a badge, out where anyone could see it- if they had the guts to.

"Come to me."

Betelgeuse obeyed. He lowered his face so that his stubble scratched against her thighs and his knees came up onto the sheets. He trailed soft, cold kisses up her legs until his mouth brushed against her mound. She was already wet with need. As his tongue slipped out to trace her lower lips his hands came up to spread her thighs and she let them. His tongue didn't penetrate her this time. It licked slowly, leisurely, taking its sweet ass time to drive her into oblivion. His hands didn't bother keeping her thighs in place this go around. Instead, they manipulated the dusky peaks of her sweet breasts into glass-cutting points.

"Betelgeuse!" Once, she came for him, the creamy, hot flesh of her thighs tightening around his head to hold him in place.

"Betelgeuse!" Twice, she came again. Her hands joined her thighs this time, fisting his hair painfully so that she could grind her sweet, hairless cunt ever closer to his tongue.

"BETELGEUSE!" Third time's the charm.

Her thighs unclenched. Her hands released his hair. Her small body quaked and writhed and shook and his long tongue was bathed with nectar so sweet that it put the raspberries they'd dined on earlier in the evening to shame. She sat up abruptly and caught his lips with hers, tasting herself on him. Her trembling hands worked at the buttons of his jacket, her strength too diminished from her multiple orgasms to attempt ripping it off in the manner she had the previous day. "Help me." The words were murmured between hurried kisses. In an instant, he was just as bare as she, and she gently urged him to turn over and lay on his back. She straddled his thighs, his cold length sticking up and resting heavily against her abdomen as she examined him.

Betelgeuse had a bit of a gut, but it suited him. He'd look wrong with washboard abs or ribs that stuck out. His arms and shoulders were thickly muscled, though, and the pads of her fingers traced over the flesh there, mapping out the sinewy tendons that strained beneath his cold flesh. His own hands were resting on her hips patiently, submitting to her whims. They were strained, too, though. It was all he could do not to flip her onto her back and "take her" like she'd so adamantly demanded. Her nails scratched him lightly along their path, moving from his biceps down to the wiry hair on his chest. Bits of moss flaked off there. Lydia was unfazed.

Before he knew what was happening, her warm, soft, tiny hand was wrapped around his shaft and the large hands on her hip tightened as his hips bucked upwards. " _Fuuckk_ …" She stroked him softly, curiously, tentatively. Like at any moment she could make the wrong move and it would transform into a snake and bite her. He was big, big enough that tendrils of fear shot up her spine.

"B?"

He let out a long hissing breath as she stroked up, and the fingers on her hips flexed. "Yeah, baby?"

"I don't… I don't know if we can have sex… Like, literally."

He released her hips and sat up on his elbows. It took a great deal of concentration to hear anything that she was saying while she handled his cock so sweetly. "What?"

"I mean…" Lydia bit her lip and looked down at the appendage in her hand, unable to meet his gaze as she said what she'd been thinking. "I think it isn't going to fit."

It was a moment before her words registered. For a second there he'd been worried that this was too much for her, too soon, and that she wanted to back out. A slow, relieved laugh built up in his chest and she smacked him half-heartedly. "Stop that! I'm serious!"

"Baby…" He hugged her close to him and kissed the top of her head as she lay flat against his chest. "Trust me on this one. It'll fit. It's designed to fit." He tilted her chin up so that their eyes locked. "If you're too scared, we don't have ta do anythin' at all. We can just lay here and sleep and go home in the mornin'." It was torture to say those words out loud. But, if that's what she wanted, that's what she'd get.

"No." He didn't allow his monumental relief to show through. "No, I want to do this. Just… Just stay still and let me…" She sat up, trailing off. Her hand reached between them to grab hold of him once more and she positioned him at her entrance. She took one deep calming breath and then allowed herself to slide onto him. They gasped simultaneously; her from the shock of having something so cold and hard inside of her, stretching her, and him from the suffocating tight wet heat that was currently strangling the head of his manhood. He hadn't had a living girl since he was living himself. He'd never had someone he loved before. It was as close to a religious experience as he'd ever have.

Lydia allowed herself to slide down further, inch by excruciating inch, taking deep breaths all the way. It didn't hurt, per se, but it didn't feel good either. He was painfully still, letting her move and adjust to him at her own pace. It was hell. Sweet torturous hell. All he wanted to do was flip her onto her back and pound into her until she cried and begged for mercy. But he didn't. He just sated himself by moving his hands all over her; her breasts, her stomach, her hips, her back, her ass, everywhere. Eventually, he was completely sheathed within her and she sat rigid above him, still breathing deeply with her eyes shut tight. His hands went to her back and pulled her down slowly so that she was supporting herself above him on shaking arms. Tentatively, he allowed himself to rock into her, causing the arms that supported her weight to collapse. She fell against him and her hands came to grasp his biceps.

"Please. Please just move. I can't…"

She was on her back in an instant, all of his previous control gone. He could only reign himself in for so long, buried deep in her tight slick heat like that. Her sweet plea had been the breaking point. He thrust into her once, hard, and she winced. But then his lips and teeth were on her neck and the pain was forgotten. He rocked against her in a slow, deep, merciless rhythm that had her gasping and clutching at him desperately.

" _I've wanted you for so fucking long, Lydia_." Each word was punctuated with a thrust. Her legs tightened around his hips in such a way that it became difficult to keep driving into her, so he took her thighs and pressed them down so that she was completely open to him, her knees pushing her breasts together enticingly. She was impossibly tight in this position and he bore down into her, groaning at the sensation. She whimpered and moaned with each thrust, becoming consecutively louder every time he pushed into her. "Oh! YES! Ah!"

He parted from her, flipped her over so that she was on her hands and knees, grabbed her hips with bruising force, and drove himself into her once more, starting up at a brutal pace. He was faster now that she'd had time adjust to his generous girth. Rougher. His nails dug into her hips as he pulled her back viciously to meet him. Her arms had given out after the first thrust and her face was buried into a pillow that muffled her screams. She'd tried meeting him thrust for thrust, to be an active participant, but he was too much for her, too quick for her strung tight little body to keep up. Eventually, she just went slack and allowed him to have his wicked way with her. That wouldn't do.

He pulled her up so that her back was arched against him and pushed her hair over her shoulders so that it didn't obstruct his view of his cock sinking into her slick heat. His hand slid around to her front, the rough pads of his fingertips petting the pearl that was the seat of her pleasure slowly, lightly, achingly, until she fell apart in his arms once more with her release.

There were lots of perks to being a supernatural being, such as himself. One of them was stamina. He went at her for hours. He'd shown her mercy after their first rut, letting her have a cigarette break and get her breathing back to normal, but then he reached for her again. He had her all over the suite. He fucked her bent over in the luxurious shower the way that he'd wanted to back at her more modest shower in her bathroom at home. She'd screamed for him when he pinned her hands above her head on the wall, hiked her up so that her legs were wrapped around him, and slammed into her so hard that he left bruises. As a matter of fact, by the time she finally threaded her gentle hands through his hair and kissed his mouth softly, whispering sweet pleas for rest, she was covered with evidence of their lovemaking- if you could call it that.

Lydia slept now, above the covers. She'd been out for hours. She'd indulged his every whim obediently and hadn't begged him for mercy until the beginnings of the Indian sunrise began to peak through the screens. After round two she'd lost use of her legs and he'd had to carry her to every new spot. The honeymoon suite of the _Oberoi Rajvilas_ would never be truly clean ever again. Oh, well. The diamonds that littered the floor in every room would make it up to the cleaning staff.

He examined her now, tracing her bruises and tattoos with one hand and sucking on a cigarette with the other. Her artificial curls had been exacerbated in the humidity, and instead of falling out they'd expanded and spread throughout the rest of her thick mane. The makeup on her neck that had covered his previous marks of affection had been smudged, sweated, and licked off. She was so fragile. He could clearly see everywhere he'd touched her; red and purple flowers on each side of her neck that trailed down to her breasts, violet hand and finger prints on her thighs, hips, and ankles. A dark smirk twisted his lips as he took in her brightly flushed ass, covered with telling red handprints.

The sun was high in the sky when he gently woke her.

"Mmm…"

"Baby, c'mon, we gotta get outta here before any actual paying guests show up."

"Mmm… No…"

"You're late for class."

She shot up, wincing when the abrupt motion pulled an abused muscle. Slowly, she let her legs fall to the floor and attempted to stand, only for her legs to fail her. He cackled and drew her back into his chest, kissing her neck.

"On second thought, maybe you should just play hooky again."


	29. Epilogue

"I can't keep missing school."

Lydia was lounging in the tub, her hair wrapped up in a high bun to avoid the bubbles. It was dark in the bathroom, tea candles on the edge of the tub the only light in the room. The water was extremely hot, steaming, but Lydia didn't mind. She liked her bath water to be scalding. Her husband had drawn it for her upon their return to her apartment, and filled it with all the amenities; Epsom salt to soothe her aching muscles, green tea bags and almond oil to speed up the healing process of her bruises, and some of her vanilla honey body wash to add scent and bubbles. Betelgeuse sat on the floor with his back to the tub, head resting on the edge. Some of the copious bubbles were caught up in the ends of his wild hair.

"School shmool."

She scowled, gathered a handful of bubbles, and smeared them across his face. He sputtered. She laughed. He shook his head vigorously, like a wet dog, causing bubbles to fly this way and that. She kept laughing, pointing a wet wrinkled finger at him this time.

"Look here, you smug little brat. You're lucky you're sore or I'd make a tentacle pop outta that drain and let things get weird."

Lydia sighed, content, and leaned back further into the steaming aromatic water, her eyes closing and a tiny smile curling her lips. "I'm as sexually open as the next girl, B, but I draw the line at necrophilia."

He smiled, slow and sleazy, narrowed his eyes on her and dipped his arm, suit and all, into the water so that his hand could dance along her side. "Yeah, you are. C'mon, let's do it again, right now." His fingernails were scratching against her ribs, slowly moving upwards. The hot water muted his skin's chill.

Lydia squirmed and swatted his hand away right as it was about to start playing with her breast. "You're insatiable."

"And you're flexible."

"You can thank Delia for forcing my father to enroll me in Ballet."

Betelgeuse came up to his knees and leaned over her in the tub, his tongue snaking out to trace up her neck to her earlobe. "I'll call her up after we're done."

Lydia arched away. " _B_ … I can't. I literally can't. I feel like I could sleep for a week."

His tongue followed her as she moved, lathing one of her darker hickeys. "Go ahead and sleep, I'll do all the work."

"Betelgeuse." Her expression said that she meant business. He made a show of rolling his eyes, retracting his long tongue back into his mouth, and leaning back against the edge of the tub. When he brushed his arms off his suit became dry once more. "One week of marital bliss and my wife's already withholding sex. One fuckin' week."

Lydia leaned forward and pulled the plug, causing the tub to start draining. She'd been soaking leisurely for the past hour. The bubbles never diminished, though, and she suspected that his magic played a hand in that. She stood; using his shoulders to steady herself, and began rinsing off the excess soap and oil with the detachable shower head. "That's an unfair assessment and you know it. Stop complaining or you're not going to be having any sex with me for a very long time."

He held open a towel for her as she finished up. She stepped into it and his arms. "You couldn't say no to me if you tried, baby doll." He pat her dry and she let him. It was all a show. He could've dried her in less than a second. This is what sated him, though, and she allowed it. Once he was done, she tied the towel around her hips so that her breasts and her entire right side were exposed, and stepped back into her room. "That's funny," Lydia placed a contemplative finger on her bottom lip and furrowed her brows, "I could've sworn that's exactly what I was doing. Huh. Silly me." He followed her, admiring the way that the striped serpent on her back twisted and turned with her hips when she walked. Her walk was slow and she had a slight limp, he noted with selfish pride. She sat at her vanity and released the bun that held her copious hair so tightly and began brushing. It hadn't been brushed since he'd styled it for their date, so now it was a wild mess. The humidity in India and their intense fucking had done a number on it.

The sun was just beginning to set on Autumn Woods when they'd returned from their rendezvous in Jaipur. Lydia had experienced mixed feelings about missing class. On one hand, her impressive GPA would no doubt suffer. On the other hand, the idea alone of walking from class to class carrying heavy books made her whole body ache in protest. He had chewed her up and spit her out, used her for all she was worth. If that was what sex with him was going to be like every time, she'd have to limit him to once a month. It was just too much. Her body could only handle so much of his arduous attentions. Still, she craved more. It was a chore to deny him.

"Lydia! I picked up your- Oh." Mandy froze. Lydia did not. She just continued brushing, eyes locked on her reflection. All of the shame she had left had been fucked out of her. "I'll- um- I'll just give these to you later." Mandy went to close the door and Lydia stopped her. "It's okay, what's up?" It wasn't the sight of a half-naked Lydia that shook Mandy. She'd seen Lydia naked more times than she could count. It was the numerous hickeys and bruises. It was the way Lydia had continued brushing her hair, without even a hint of a blush on her cheeks, and hadn't bothered to acknowledge her presence. It was the way her friend's husband was laid back on Lydia's bed as if he hadn't a care in the world.

"I- uh- picked up your assignments." Mandy placed the stack of papers on the bed, next to the poltergeist's feet.

"Thanks, you didn't have to do that." Lydia just continued unabashedly brushing her hair.

"No problem. Where did you two go off to last night?"

The raven-haired girl sighed and rolled her head back, eyes closed as she reveled in the memories. "France. And the Neitherworld. And India. I'll have to tell you about it some other time. We should plan a ladies' night."

Mandy sat on the bed and crossed her legs. "Actually…" She shot Betelgeuse a sideways glance. His eyes were closed and he took no notice. He truly couldn't have been more pleased with himself. "We already kind of planned a ladies' night for tonight. There's this new shop up in the square, you'll love it. It's way too cool for this town, full of books on the occult, magic crystals and spell candles, all that freaky shit you love. Nona- she's in the living room by the way- and I went earlier after class and picked up a spell book and some candles."

Betelgeuse spoke now. "Pffft. Seriously? No way you got an actual spell book. S'probably just some made up mass-produced shit meant for angsty teenagers."

Mandy glared. " _Anyway_ , the shop keep saw that we were interested in it and when we mentioned that we had a friend who loves stuff like this, she started going on and on to us about 'the power of three'. So, we figured _fuck it_ , let's get drunk and try our hand at pseudo-magic."

Lydia put her brush down and started applying Argon oil to her tresses, head tilted in consideration. "That actually sounds like a lot of fun. Hold on, let me get dressed."

"Even if, and this is a big if, that thing you have is legit, there's nothing in it that I can't do already. What's the point? Sounds like a big fat waste of time." The specter was thoroughly unimpressed.

"So what? Magic is magic is magic. Besides, your Lydia's ghost, not mine. What if I wanna hex somebody on my own time?"

"Then you come ask me for a favor. Shit, this is little kid stuff." Mandy and Betelgeuse continued to bicker as Lydia dressed.

The tattooed girl didn't bother with decorum. She just threw on her biggest, softest sleeping shirt- this one depicted the original black and red poster for _Psycho_ \- and followed Mandy out into the living room. Betelgeuse followed behind them. Nona smirked knowingly as she passed Lydia a wine glass filled to the brim with a dark red liquid. "Have fun last night? I was hurt when you didn't come out of your room to tell me goodbye." The glint in her coffee-colored eyes suggested that she was anything but.

"Yeah." Lydia returned the look, catching Nona off guard with the lack of her usual shy embarrassment. "Loads."

"Let me see this 'spell book'." The word was punctuated with air quotation marks. Nona handed the poltergeist a thick, dusty volume that looked like it hadn't been touched in ages. Lydia stood on her tiptoes to look over his shoulder, examining it along with him. "Deadly-Vu…" She whispered, causing him to raise an eyebrow in her direction before continuing his appraisal of the spell book. "This is Celtic." He spoke, flipping through it slowly. The script was tiny, hand-written, and every single page was filled into the margins. Some pages contained macabre illustrations. One depicted a swan trapped in the unyielding jaws of an alligator. Every other page or so contained lines written in a rhythm out of sync and apart from the rest of it, in a larger font with more space in between so that it could be clearly read.

"Hmm…" Betelgeuse sat it down on the counter and continued flipping through the pages, his skepticism fading. The girls crowded around him. "This might be the real deal. I haven't found anything inaccurate. Yet. Looks to be about 10th century. You found this in a fuckin' bookstore?"

Nona answered. "Yeah. You can read this?" He had their complete and utter attention.

"Only a little bit, but I recognize a lot of the runes. I can translate it, though." He waved a hand over the pages and the words twisted and transformed before them, settling into a more modern form of English. Lydia leaned in closer, her finger coming to rest upon a line of text. She read out loud.

" _Oleander wax, Dribble & curl,_

_Betwixt rosemary, sage, & thyme,_

_Tiger's eye dust,_

_Lamb's blood & rust,_

_Rubbed heavy with_

_Switches of Rye_

_Smoldering ash &_

_Freshly pressed hash_

_Entwine with bubble & snort_

_Sing for the dead_

_Cry for the living &_

_Mop up your tears_

_From the floor…"_

All of them, even the aged ghost, sat still for a moment as though they expected something, anything to happen. Nothing did. The tension broke. Mandy laughed and sipped her wine. "You're probably right, B. It's probably a fake hunk of junk." He grimaced, uneasy. "I dunno. That seemed less like an incantation to me and more like a set of ingredients and instructions."

Lydia broke away from the circle and started moving furniture. Nona raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

"Making a circle, duh." The goth answered, as though this was obvious. "Haven't you ever seen _Charmed_ or _Supernatural_? We can't just say words and expect them to work. There has to be some ritual to it." The couch was pushed up against the bar, the coffee table was moved to rest in front of the television podium, and the recliner was simply nudged over to the wall. "Get me the salt, a safety pin, and that goblet you gave me for Christmas." Nona began gathering the requested items while Lydia lit candles, arranging them on the hardwood floor in a large circle. Mandy joined Lydia on the ground while her husband opened the patio doors to light a cigarette.

"I don't think you should fuck around with this shit."

Betelgeuse seemed tense and incredibly uncomfortable with the recent development. "It's one thing to play make believe with your girlfriends, it's another to actually practice it. I did and it almost killed you."

Lydia paused what she was doing and joined her husband on the balcony, leaving Mandy to continue her work lighting the candles. "Wanna make a deal?" She nudged him playfully and took the cigarette from between his lips. His tension dispelled at her proposal. "Sure. Whatcha got in mind, cupcake?"

"How about we only try spells that you think are safe? Would that make you feel better?"

He stole his cigarette back from between her lips and planted a quick kiss there. "Deal. And don't start getting any ideas about warding me off with salt circles. Shit doesn't work."

Lydia giggled and wrapped her arms around his middle, tucking her head under his chin.

"I wouldn't dream of it."


End file.
